More Than Eyes Alone Can See
by Neon Daisies
Summary: Sometimes what can't be seen is more important than what can be. A 'Sands gets back to the States' fic with a twist. That twist would be, no romance, just screwed up people trying to make it through life. ::COMPLETE::
1. Observer

**Author's Note and Disclaimer – not mine, I just wanted to play with them.  The mysterious woman is mine though.  I know this may seem as if it's the same kind of OUATIM fanfic, but hopefully it'll end up being different.  First fic in this genre . . . first fic period . . . so please be kind.  Flames not so much welcome, but constructive criticisms and reviews are.**

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She watched from the upper window of a building across the street from where the slaughter was taking place.  She had watched as soldiers and civilians alike had battled for dominance . . . for victory.  _It's unfortunate for the soldiers that the people of Culíacan actually believe in what they're fighting for.  Perhaps if they were only being paid to defend the president, they'd surrender.  But when ethics and beliefs get involved, things have a tendency to get rather messy.  The best laid plans fall apart.  All because loyalty can be so unpredictable and so easily triggered._  She sighed and muttered under her breath, "The streets may not run red with blood tonight, but when the setting sun hits these streets and buildings of clay, it's going to appear as if they are."

   "Señora?  What are you waiting for, señora?  Why are you not in the streets helping the injured?"

   The woman turned from her vantage point to address the young boy who had also sought refuge in this formerly abandoned loft.  "Marcos, if I went down there right now, it is likely that I would either be shot on sight by both sides, or taken prisoner by the cartel.  Señor Barillo does not take betrayal lightly.  And if I were taken by his men, how would I help your friend?" she nodded towards the street outside.

   "Is he going to be alright?"  The young boy looked out the window down at the man lying alone in the street.

   "I don't know, Marcos.  If what you tell me is true, then he has lost a lot of blood.  It's within the realm of possibility that he is still living, but I can't do anything for him until things quiet down out there."  While she tried to comfort the boy, she was afraid that the American was indeed dead.  As much as she would love to undo as much of Barillo's work as she could, she almost hoped that the man was dead.  Surely that would be far kinder than what the cartel leader had done to him.

   But even as she thought this, the man moved his hand.  It formed a fist convulsively as if firing a gun he no longer had.  _Does he fight fate, his dreams, or reality?_

   "Señora!  Did you see that?"

   "Sí, Marcos.  I saw.  It appears as if he is indeed still alive."  _That or there's random neurons firing in his brain causing random muscles to contract . . . .  Movement in a window in the adjacent building caught her eye and brought her wandering mind to a sharp focus._

   Ajedrez.  It had to be.  The woman was beautiful, her face a study in cold and cruel perfection.  Most men were fooled by the fullness of her lips, the lushness of her body, but _she knew better.  Knew exactly what kind of product had been created by Ajedrez' upbringing._

   The woman was looking out the window that had just minutes ago housed the image of the president, and had more recently served as an exit for a man with several guns and a sash that resembled the Mexican flag.  She was scanning the street below, apparently pissed that her father's plans had gone so far awry.  Then, with the suddenness of undeterable determination, she disappeared from view.  With her gun at the ready.

   _Did she see me, or was it our friend down there in the dirt who sparked her interest?  As much as she disliked Ajedrez, she had no interest in a confrontation with the woman.  Especially when she was unarmed and her opponent wasn't.  "Marcos, will you please bring me my holster?  It's hanging from my bedstand."_

   "But señora, I thought you were a doctor? What use does a doctor have for a gun?"

   She looked at the boy with a sad, wistful look on her face.  "Even doctors have to protect themselves at times, Marcos."  She returned her attention to the street, waiting to find out what her adversary's next move was.

   Ajedrez appeared in the street outside the two buildings.  She threw a quick glance up at the window where the lone woman was still standing.  She pursed her lips as she mimicked firing a handgun.  Then she winked.

   _Cocky bi-  "Marcos, get my gun.  Now!"  Ajedrez was headed toward the fallen CIA agent's position.  Without a doubt she was out for blood.  For more blood._

   "Here, señora."  She pulled the weapon from its holster.  _Maybe I can help . . . or stop her,_ but before the thought could be translated into deed, Ajedrez had reached the black clad man lying in the road.  She pulled him up.  By the way he staggered and was holding his left arm it was a painful experience for him.  And more importantly, his body was now blocking any shot she might have been able to take at Ajedrez.

   _Move.  One of you move.  She watched as the former AFN agent picked a pair of sunglasses up out of the dirt and slid them onto the man's face.  She felt her stomach turn as the heartless woman below toyed with her prey, kissing him gently.  _That self-serving, heartless slut._  At this point in time she could have cheerfully shot Ajedrez, and not looked back.  But before she would take any kind of action in more than her mind's eye, she saw Ajedrez stumble back from the man she had been toying with.  She was clutching her abdomen, a look of surprise and shock on her face.  Still looking up at a man who couldn't see her, she fell to her knees and then to her back._

   _He shot her.  The thought had barely registered when the man also collapsed, his own knees buckling under his weight.  _Blood loss.  He's going into a state of shock.  He's going to need medical attention real soon._  She was about to toss caution to the wind and race down to tend him when she felt a chill run down her spine.  She turned back to her window._

   Once again the window in what had once been the president's private residence framed a figure.  This time it was the man she had spent the last six years cleaning up after.  Despite the mass of medical gauze that obscured his face, she knew it was him.  Knew it was Barillo.

   She observed as he spotted his daughter lying in the dirt of the unpaved road, next to the man he had tried to punish and prevent from meddling any father in his private plans.  It hadn't worked.  The man must be either insane or insanely stubborn.

   She watched as the cartel leader's eyes rose from the street to the surrounding buildings, to the window she was standing in.  She saw the recognition, loathing, and unbelievable rage take up residence in his eyes.  _Shit._

   Before Barillo could kill her with the sheer force of his hate-filled eyes, something or someone in the room with him called his attention away.  He disappeared from view for several seconds.  Then there was a sudden round of gunfire and his body came flying out the window.  He hit the ground hard, glass fragments raining down around him like frozen tears.  _There's no way he could have survived that.  He couldn't have.  _If he was dead, then she was finally free.  _Go check.  Go make sure._

   She turned from her window for the last time that day, and found behind her an empty room.  Marcos had apparently abandoned her to go see to the health of his friend.  _No matter.  Get downstairs, check on Barillo and Ajedrez, **then look after the American.  Barillo's last victim.  My last charge.**_

The sun was starting to set on this bloody Day of the Dead.  Not that night would bring peace, or wipe the streets clean of blood.  It wouldn't bring and end to the fights, the riots, or chaos caused by the attempted coup.  It would just make guerrilla fighting easier to carry out.  Sounds of destruction and mayhem floated on the sun's setting rays to reach the ears of the doctor.  

   She ignored the melody of hovering death as she worked her way across the street.  The man in black was gone, although a trail of partially dried blood marked the course he had taken.  _I hope Marcos is safe with him._

Giving the prostrate form of Ajedrez a wide berth, she headed towards the place where Barillo had landed.  Getting closer, she saw that there would be no need to search for a pulse.  If the angle of his neck and the arrested spread of blood across his chest was any indication, then the cartel leader was well and truly dead.

   She felt relief and guilt flood her veins along with the knowledge that she'd never need to track this man's movements, never again need to clean up the ruin he left in his wake. She was released from her oath.  Freed from her duty . . . except for the American.  She needed to find him and tend to him before she could celebrate.

   Quickly she walked back to where Ajedrez was lying.  The man's trail started there.  The sooner they were tucked away from the sight of what remained of Marquez' men, the safer they would be, and the better she would feel.

   "Traitor."  The harshly whispered word caught her attention.  She looked down at the body at her feet.  Barillo's daughter wasn't yet dead, but from the amount of blood staining the ground underneath and around her, she soon would be.

   "You call me a traitor, but I'm not the one that just tried to overthrow the established government.  And failed miserably, I might add."

   "You betrayed your _family._"                                                                                                                                            

   Eyes and voice cold, the lone woman replied, "I have no family.  I never have.  I simply had people who found it was in their best interest to exploit me.  People like you."

   Ajedrez didn't bother to reply to this.  "Father . . . is he dead?"

   "As dead as you'll be in a few moments."  Years of cruelty and indifference were reaping their wages.

   "Damn you, you bitch."  They dying woman coughed painfully.

   Watching without pity or mercy, she answered, "I think that one damned bitch is enough for one family.  I'll remain a simple bastard, if it's all the same to you."

   "Go to hell."

   "I think that's your trip, actually.  Do you want me to see you off?"  There was no reply to this question.  No breath stirred the dust.  "Guess not."  She left the woman lying in the dirt that she had avoided for so much of her life.  The dirt she had let others handle by having them do the messy and degenerate jobs required by the cartel.  Irony was a great thing.  But she couldn't ponder on that now.  She had a rogue injured CIA agent to find and make peace with.

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**So, what did you think?  I'll continue this whether you like it or not, so I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope I sparked your interest.  I'll try to update again by Friday.**


	2. Healing Touch?

**A/N: chapter two.  Yeah, this is going slow . . . .**

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She found Marcos and the wounded man nearly three blocks away.  She arrived just in time to see him flip another man off.  He then muttered something that was undoubtedly both insulting and profane.  Amazingly, he was still on his feet, although it did appear as if the wall at his back was doing just as much (if not more) to keep him upright as his legs were.

  She was unsure of how to approach him, knowing there was no way she'd have his instant trust, or even gratitude.  Surely after the treatment he had received at the hands of the cartel, he was going to be . . . wary . . . of trusting a stranger.  _So how am I going to help him without having to tie him to the bed and then pumping him full of sedatives?_

   She stood idly by as she pondered that question, all too aware that every moment in the open upped the risk of being caught while trying to get to her house.  So far she had been totally silent, even the sound of her sneakers on the pavement silenced or drowned out by the distant sounds of fighting.  Not even Marcos had noticed that she had managed to track them down, but that was unlikely to last long.  She needed a plan of action before she was noticed.

   "Señor, are you alright?"

   "No."

   Marcos smiled.  "You will be."

   The man neither agreed nor disputed this statement.  He leaned his head back against the stucco wall that was helping him stay on his feet.  His face was a gory mess of dried and fresh blood.  His left sleeve and both pant-legs were caked with blood as well.  Even against the black of his clothes it was possible to see it.

   _There is no good reason that this man should still be conscious, let alone on his feet.  She was puzzled by his stamina.  It had to be more than simple willpower keeping him vertically situated.  __Drugs.  If they gave him something to keep him aware as they removed his eyes, then it could still be in his system.  Which would explain–  Her thoughts were interrupted by the same man who was centered in them so prominently._

   "Kid, get me outta here."  He held out a hand in Marcos' general direction.

   _That's it.  If he trusts Marcos, then I can use that.  Enough to get him off the streets.  She watched as the ever obedient Marcos took the man's gloved hand.  He started to lead the man back down the street, back to where he had left her – towards the official residence which now more closely resembled a charnel house than a place the president had stayed._

   "No.  No, no, no.  We just came from that direction.  Lots of big, dumb, hired asses ready to shoot me on sight.  Take me someplace else."

   When Marcos started explaining in a barrage of Spanish that was hardly recognizable since it was so full of street slang, she decided it was time to make her appearance.  Cutting Marcos off before he could fully explain what he was intending to do, she said, "Actually Marcos' sense of direction is surprisingly well developed for such a young boy."  She stood perfectly still as the man turned his face in her general vicinity and went for his handgun.

   "Who are you?"

   "A friend of your rather loyal guide.  He asked me to come help you."  As she spoke the gun honed in on her position.  Clearly this man was a threat no matter how disabled he was.

   "And that makes you qualified or trustworthy how, sweetie?"

   She ignored the part of her that said this was a dangerous situation and that she needed to run before she was shot.  _He'd probably just shoot me in the back anyway.  Replying to his question, she said, "I'm qualified because I've spent the past six years mending various bruises, cuts, gashes, gouges, and broken bones.  The four years before that were spent in medical school."  She shrugged rather needlessly.  "As for how you can trust me, Marcos does.  That and I am possibly the only person in all Culíacan who doesn't want to kill you.  And most convincingly, I don't trust you any more than you trust me."  She watched him weave on his feet.  "And if we don't get you somewhere where you can lie down, you'll collapse right here in the street.  Easy prey for the cartel, the military, or any passing citizens who don't like gringos."  The man was silent.  "However, if you prefer to be taken to the hospital, I can arrange for that as well."_

   "No.  No hospitals.  Too accessible."  He lowered his arm, but the gun remained in his hand.

   "Mmm.  That's what I though you'd say."  She approached him slowly, letting her steps sound out deliberately.  They were loud enough to be heard over the faint sounds of fighting.  He tracked her, tracked the sound she made.  It was almost creepy if she let herself dwell on the fact that he had no eyes yet was still perfectly able to tell where she was.

   "I'm going to place myself on your right side, señor.  I want you to lean on me.  We have several blocks to walk as of yet," she looked around, "and it would be best if we were quickly on our way. 

   He shook his head.  "I hate to argue with a lady, niña, but I'd rather have you where I can keep a weapon trained on you."  He heard her footsteps stop.

   "You want to support yourself with your wounded arm?"  Her tone was disbelieving.  "Are you sure that's a good idea?  You've already lost a great deal of blood.  I'm not sure that you can afford to lose any more.  And we still need to get to my house.  I'd rather not jostle that arm unless it's absolutely necessary."  The footsteps started again.

   "You're more concerned about my bloodcell count than you are about me shooting you.  Are you insane, or merely stupid?"

   _Apparently I'm a glutton for punishment.  "Neither.  I'm practical.  I was expecting you to do or demand something along those lines.  After the day you've had, I'd expect nothing else."  He felt a hand on his arm – his right arm.  Apparently she didn't have a great deal of respect for his wishes.  "Just keep your gun in your right hand, like this," she raised his arm so that it rested around her shoulders.  The barrel of his gun was resting lightly against her breastbone.  "Is that good enough for you?  You can still shoot me immediately should you decide that I'm up to no good, and I can keep you from falling flat on your face and doing yourself yet another injury."_

   "Lady, you're nuts."

   "You're not the first one to suggest that, and I'm sure you won't be the last."  Gingerly (but securely) wrapping an arm around the man's slim waist, she said, "Okay, let's start moving."

Sands was sure that he had somehow managed to stray into hell.  Every step emphasized the pain in his legs, his arm, and his head.  What had started as sharp knife-like darts of pain had spread and merged to become a single sheet of fire that was slowly consuming his sanity.  Or what was left of it.

   The woman at his side hadn't spoken a word since they had set off.  He was indifferently pleased to find that she was roughly the same height as he – it made it easier to use her as a crutch.

   Oh, the pain was going to drive him fucking mad.  There had to be a way to distract himself.  _Maybe by imaging the look on that bitch's face when I shot her.  He grimaced.  Imagine the look, hadn't seen it, couldn't see it because he had no fucking eyes, which was why he had shot Ajedrez in the first place.  Well, that and she had betrayed him.  __That didn't work well._

"What's your name, niña?"  The hand gripping his wrist to help keep it in place contracted sporadically, then relaxed.

   "Most people call me Tess."  Her voice was completely neutral, purposely void of any kind of emotion.

   "Why's that?"  He wondered how hard it would be to piss her off.  Then maybe she'd leave him to die in the dirt instead of dragging him through what he was beginning to imagine purgatory was like.

   "Because that's what I tell them to call me."

   _Non-informative answers.  I always did like a tight-lipped woman.  "Is there a last name to go with that, 'Tess'?"_

   "'Fraid not."

   "So, what?  Your parents a big fan of Cher or something?"

   "No.  They just didn't find it necessary to give me one.  In their way of thinking, bastards aren't deserving of last names."  This was said so matter-of-factly, yet with a very strong "drop it" vibe that Sands knew that this topic would probably piss her off faster than any other.  "Who's bastard?"

   "If I wanted you to know that, I probably would have volunteered the information.  You can stop trying to piss me off. We've only got one more block to go."

   "What can I say?  I'm bored.  It's not as if I can entertain myself with sightseeing."  He let the subject drop for the time being.  He was quickly losing the strength to irritate his guide.  "So, what's for dinner?"

"How did you know?"

   "Know what?"  Tess was hot and sweaty from maneuvering her patient up the three flights of stairs from the street, and semi-nervous from the thought that her door could be knocked in at any moment.  Yes, they had gotten back to her temporary residence safely, but they hadn't escaped scrutiny.

   _But surely we weren't the only people escorting wounded today.  We couldn't have looked **that **out of place.  Then, taking a good look at her patient who was covered in blood from pretty much head to toe, was wearing sunglasses long past the time when the sun had set, and a black sequined vest, she revised that thought.  __Hopefully we didn't look **too** out of place._

   "Are you going to answer my question or are you going to stand there like a lackwit with your ass bare and your pants around your ankles?"

   "What?"  Oh.  No.  Actually it's you who's going to be caught with his pants down, although I assure you that you're ass will be covered at all times."  She turned from the bed for a moment.  "Marcos?"

   "Sí, señora?"

   "Will you get the really big pair of scissors from my left hand desk drawer and bring them here?"  The boy nodded and ran off.  When she returned her gaze to the bed, she found her guest slumped against the wall.  "I thought I asked you to lie down."

   He raised his uninjured arm, pointing a gun with an attached silencer at her.  "I thought I asked how you knew where to find me?" he shot back in a reasonable yet too-controlled voice.  "Now, I've had a rather . . . trying . . . day.  A trying week, in fact.  I'm not in the mood to be fucked with.  So either you can answer my questions, or I can give you your own wounds to tend to."


	3. Questions

**A/N:  Whenever Tess is talking to Marcos, she's speaking in Spanish.  Marcos always speaks in Spanish until further notice.  When Tess speaks to Sands, it's in English unless otherwise noted.**

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Tess supposed he had a point, but that didn't mean she had any desire to have a conversation while staring down the barrel of a gun.  "You can put that away, señor.  I'm not going anywhere until you can walk out of here under your own power."  The gun didn't waver.

   "Señor!  What are you doing?  Señora Tessa is trying to help you."  Marcos stopped when Tess waved a hand in his direction.  She'd answer his questions as long as it suited her to do so.  She wasn't here to satisfy his curiosity, but to ensure that everything that could be done to atone for the sins of the Barillo family was done.

   "You want to know how I found you?  Your little friend here found me and asked me to take a look at you.  I agreed.  That and you left a rather handy trail of blood nearly from my doorstep to your location."

   "Why?"

   "Why did I help you?"  Tess shrugged before she remembered that he couldn't see that.  "I enjoy tweaking the cartel's whiskers when I can.  Aiding a man who is apparently high on their list for who is due swift and inproportionate retribution seemed as if it would fit in with that agenda.  In short, I'm using you to spite them.  Even though Barillo is dead, and the cartel in temporary anarchy until a new leader murders his way to power."  She crossed her arms over her chest.  "I suppose that I ought to thank you for that.  It'll get some heat off my tail long enough to disappear."

   Sands ignored that last bit.  "Why is it so important to you to meddle in the cartel's affairs?"

   This was treading close to the line that Tess didn't want to cross.  "Why is it any of your business?"

   In a deceptively patient voice he said, "A lack of information can get a man in deep shit, as I have so very recently rediscovered.  I have no desire to repeat the experience any time soon.  Please," he cocked the gun, "answer my question, niña."

   "The cartel ruined my life a long time ago.  Stole any hope of normality that I might have harbored.  But I'm not the only one who's been hurt.  Barillo managed to ruin the lives of countless thousands with his violence, and his greed, and his drugs.  So I decided to do what I could to make up for that.  To piss him off as much as I could and in doing so, try to restore the balance his family owes."  _And you're the last piece.  The final weight._

   _"Restore the balance . . . ."  Her words echoed in Sands' mind.  That's what had been trying to do.  He was preparing to ask yet another question when a bolt of pain worse than any of the others ripped through his head.  _Damn it!_  His entire body responded to it, trying to escape the pain.  That just made things worse.  His bullet wounds screamed as the muscles the bullets had torn through contracted reflexively._

   Tess heard a harsh intake of breath come from the man on the bed.  She spun around (she had been pacing) only to witness his futile attempts to escape the pain.  _The drug is wearing off.  His nerves are finally realizing that they've been receiving instructions to sound the alarm.  That something is wrong.  As she was thinking this, she rushed to the bed, her mind also racing through all the things that needed to be done, her will uncertain as to whether she could carry it all out._

Sands felt his gun fall from his hand as the pain finally receded to bearable levels.  "Damn, that hurt."  He felt a set of slender fingers slip around his wrist, checking his pulse.  From the softly muttered Spanish curses that reached his ears, he knew that whatever his hostess had found couldn't be good.  However, when she spoke, there was nothing but calm and impersonal professionalism in her voice.

   "We need to stop the bleeding and get you cleaned up."  _And a blood infusion wouldn't come amiss.  "Marcos!  Where are you!"_

   "Here, señora."  She turned from Sands, and sure enough, there he was standing idly by, concern in his eyes.  "The señor is going to be okay, right?"

   She took the scissors from him.  "I certainly hope so.  Will you please go and get the black case you'll find under my bathroom sink and bring it here?  It's a bit heavy, but it's okay to drag it."  Once again the boy nodded and left the room.  "Good kid."  Addressing her next words to the man sitting on her bed, she said, "Well, I've told you what people call me.  You want to return the favor and give me something to call you?"

   "Like my name?"

   "That would work, but so would a pseudonym if you don't entirely trust me.  I hate undressing a man when I'm not sure of what to call him."

   Sands smirked.  "You can call me Giovanni."

   Tess raised her eyebrows.  "That is _not your name." _

   "No.  It's not.  But it's been a fantasy of mine to find a woman who would call me that.  Besides, I never really liked the name my parents gave me."

   "O-kay . . . ."  Tess just trailed off.  She really hadn't been expecting that name.  she was called back to the task at hand when she heard Sands start grinding his teeth as another wave of pain flooded his system.  While he managed to stay still this time, she could see he was gripping the bed covers with his good hand.  Could see the sweat breaking out on his face, and his muscles clench against the need to curl up in a fetal position.  Could see fresh blood seeping out of his wounds and trailing down his face.

   She waited for the pain to recede again before saying, "Let's get you out of those clothes."  From the corner of her eye she could see Marcos come back into the bedroom, dragging her smallish trunk of medical supplies after him.

   "We're going to need to soak the areas around your bullet wounds.  There's a lot of built up dried blood, and I would prefer to not just rip that off.  And you'd probably prefer that too."  Sands didn't respond.  

   She sighed.  "Marcos, I'm only going to ask you to do one more thing for me before I send you home for the night.  Will you please get me a pitcher of lukewarm water from the kitchen?"  Again, the boy was eager to help, and went to carry out his task.

   Tess got down to her own work, removing Sands' gloves, boots, socks, munitions belts (which she sat on the floor by the bed within easy reach of either of them), and his regular belt.  Then she fetched a hairband from her nightstand.  _I wonder what he'd do if he knew it was pink?  _Gently she got Sands to move his head away from the wall, and more gently still she pulled his hair back out of his face.  Several of the brown locks were encrusted with dried blood just like the rest of him.

   "Señora –"  Marcos had returned with the water she needed.  She could tell that he was unhappy with the prospect of being sent home.  It was best to say no before he could start begging.

   "No.  You need to go home and assure your parents that you are still alive.  Go now, before twilight fades entirely.  Keep away from the fighting.  You can come back tomorrow and visit with your friend then, but make sure you come in through the back door.  Comprendes?"

   He looked thoroughly miserable, but her replied, "Sí, señora."  Slowly, reluctantly, he backed out of the room.  "Hasta luego, señor."  After saying that, he disappeared from view.

When she heard the door shut, Tess dipped a clean cloth into the waiting water.  It was nearly room temperature, but a little warmer.

   "Why'd you make the kid leave?"

   "I didn't want him corrupted."

   "Why, niña, I didn't know you wanted me in your bed for that reason."

   "I don't.  I just didn't want him here while I'm pulling bullets out of you and poking you with needles.  Something tells me that some choice language will be flying around, and I prefer that that is not the English he learn."  She only partially wrung it before laying it on the wound in Sands' left thigh.  About to repeat the procedure on his right leg, she realized that this might be easier if he were lying down.  _But it will be easier to get his clothes off if he's sitting up._

   "What are you doing?"

   "Wondering what the best way to get you out of your clothing is."

   "Ooh.  Keep talking like that and I'm going to get a raging hard-on."

   Tess rolled her eyes.  "I wouldn't count on that, _Giovanni.  Not only have you lost a great deal of blood, more than you should have and still be conscious, but I'll be applying Novocain to those wounds before removing the bullets and stitching them up._

   "Fun-sucker."  Sands felt another cloth settle on his other leg.  Shortly after that, he felt the bed beneath him move as his hostess sat down.  He found out what she was doing when he felt another wet cloth start being held against his injured arm.  The water trickling through the cloths, through his clothing, and over his skin was distracting.

   Tess watched her patient's face for any signs of distress.  It showed none.  After five minutes or so of silence had gone by, she removed the cloth she'd been holding to his arm.  "Let's see how well that worked."  With extreme care, she plucked at the lose fabric of his shirt sleeve, slowly moving in towards the hole in his flesh.  "Tell me if this starts to hurt or pull and we'll soak it for a bit longer."  She looked up from her task in time to see him nod.

   She had to soak the wound one more time before she was able to remove Sands' shirt.  While she was doing her best to be the clinical and detached doctor (more to suppress unmerited guilt and pity than anything else) she couldn't help noticing just how attractive her patient was.  The chest underneath the black shirt was lean and tan, with just the barest suggestions of the musculature underneath his skin.  She couldn't help but keep her fingers from brushing against his skin as she tried to undo the buttons.

   Suddenly aware of what she was doing, she laid a hand flat on his chest.  His skin was cool and clammy under her hand.  "Damn it," she whispered.

   "Something wrong?  I mean, normally I wouldn't dream of interrupting what is obviously an intimate moment for you –"

   "No.  I just discovered what a total idiot I am.  I thought that the drug that Barillo's men had given you would arrest the onset of shock as well as the delayed feelings of pain.  It must have, but the drugs are wearing off.  You're going into shock.  Why didn't you tell me you were cold?"  He shrugged.  "No matter.  Stay here, try not to move that arm.  I'm going to go get a blanket for you."


	4. Pain

**Disclaimer: Have I told you yet that this isn't mine?  Because I can see how you would be confused. . . .**

**A/N:  Do-do-do!  Another chapter.  I'm so proud of myself.  More tender loving care in this chapter.  Next one should be fun.  I'm already giddy and all I have are ideas.  Read on.**

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_Don't go anywhere.  Where does she think I'm fucking going to go?  Not only can I not see, but I think I'm finally feeling the affects of losing so much blood.  My head is spinning and I haven't even stood up in the past half hour._

   And the pain.  The pain was relentlessly and sadistically chipping away at his control.  He'd never passed out before in his life, but now he would be more than willing to.  He wasn't sure how long it would be before he was willing to beg for the pain to leave, but he knew it wouldn't be too long.  Just as he knew he'd kill anyone who witnessed such an indignity.  Or perhaps he'd just shoot himself, but he doubted that.  He'd lived this long, he wouldn't roll over and die quietly now.

   Even as he thought that, another wave of pain crashed over him, stealing his senses from him.  He couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't taste or feel anything but the pain.  Couldn't smell anything but his own blood.  And it didn't stop, didn't falter, didn't ease up.  It gripped him in much the same way that sadistic bastard of a doctor's instrument had gripped his eyes, tearing at him.  And when it finally let up, it left him feeling hollow and raw.  Left his lungs and his muscles burning from a lack of oxygen, his mind reeling, his senses muddled and confused.  And cold.  He realized that now.

   He leaned against the wall and waited for his mind to return to normal, afraid it never would, afraid that the pain and the dark would warp his sanity until he screamed for death.  _Can't let that happen.  Won't let that happen.  I'll blow my fucking brains out before that happens.  With that promise, he could feel his mind and his perceptions returning to normal for the time being.  _

   With the return of his mental facilities, he heard a tapping where he assumed the doorway to the room was.  It was hard to tell.  The room he was in distorted sound with echoes and hollow rings.  He was assuming that it was loft-like in design - high ceilings, uncarpeted floors, lots of open spaces and few hiding places.  A bad place for a confrontation.  Not that he currently had any weapons.  That woman had taken them.

   _Tap . . . taptap . . . tap . . . t-tap. . . .  Sands realized that the source of the sound was localized.  It wasn't getting any closer or farther away.  He listened harder, concentrating, determined to figure the puzzle out.  The sound was too soft to be a pair of boots.  The floors here were hardwood.  __What is that?  _

   He suddenly relaxed.  It was the sound of nails against a hard surface.  Apparently his hostess was waiting for a less awkward moment to walk into the room.  He felt rage begin to boil as he wondered how long she had been standing there – if she had stood and stared at the eyeless man in the throws of pain.  _No.  Dangerous time to get angry.  Not enough control.  Her only sin is being softhearted enough to take in an injured man.  He forced himself to calm down.  _If she's standing outside the door, she's waiting for me to let her come in.  If that's the case, she's the most intelligent woman I've even met._  In his experience it was rare to find a human who was willing to let someone deal with pain on their own without butting in or goggling.  He didn't want to be coddled, and somehow she knew that.  __That could be a problem later.  Intuitive people were often more trouble than they were worth.  They screwed plans and often instigated disorder.  Look at what he did with the information he gathered about how peopled acted.  He was a first class manipulator because he could read other people in the same way drivers read street signs.  If he didn't watch it, this woman would become a liability.  And liabilities were always disposed with.  A shame after the way she was helping him out.  He had to make sure she didn't learn too much._

Tess returned with the promised blanket to find her patient in the throws of another pain attack.  Perhaps the most awful thing about it was the way he refused to make a sound.  _How long, how much pressure until his jaw breaks?  She desperately wished she could give him something for the pain, but knew she couldn't.  Knew that Dr. Guevera favored the use of this particular pain altering drug because it interacted with any other pain-killer in such a way that the heart often stopped.  She wasn't prepared to kill just to stop pain.  Not when she still had other alternatives._

   She stood in the doorway of the room and watched for several moments before turning her back on Sands.  She knew that he wouldn't be pleased if he knew she had stood and watched him suffer.  She had known him less than two hours, but she knew that he'd rather suffer alone than endure any attempts she made to ease his pain.  He wouldn't thank her for butting in, no matter how much her guilty conscience cried out for her to do something to let them off the hook.  No matter how much the doctor within her screamed to alleviate pain in any way she could.  _I will not impose anything else upon this man.  He has lost enough today.  Let him keep what is left of his dignity._

   So she stood, a stranger in her own house, sharing her personal space with yet another stranger.  She tapped her fingers on the wall out of nervous habit – one of the few she hadn't been broken of.  She had been a nail-biter – but after having her nails pared down below the quick on several occasions, she had taught herself to stop.  It was no fun to go around with bloody fingers, especially since any schoolwork she turned in that was in anything less than pristine condition she was punished for and made to do over.  But tapping nails was acceptable.

   Tess had no idea how long she stood in the corridor outside her room waiting for some signal that it was okay to enter.  A lazy breeze moved past her, ruffling shoulder-length waves of brown hair.  _I should tie it back before I start stitching,_ she thought idly.  She studied her toes, thinking it was about time to repaint them.  She mentally ran through her inventory of medications, antibiotics, bandages, and saline solutions.  _It would probably be best to hook the man up to an IV, get some fluids in him._  All the while her fingers went _tap . . . taptap . . . tap . . . t-tap. . . against the wall.  She closed her eyes.  A stray melody ran through her mind, a fly buzzed in a corner somewhere, the harsh breathing of her patient settled out._

   She heard nothing more for several minutes, until a question came from the bloody figure on her bed, "Are you planning on freezing me to death?  Because if you are, I'd prefer you simply put a bullet between my eyes.  I'm afraid I don't have the patience for anything else today."

Patching Sands up was a long, tedious, and painful experience for both patient and surgeon.  Tess didn't dare use anything stronger than topical Novocain to lessen the bite of needles and antiseptics.  The worst part of the gun wounds was making sure that the bigger pieces of cloth and thread were removed from the wounds.  This involved painstaking care and the constant swabbing of blood.  But luckily the Novocain had been enough to dull that pain to a level where she could work on him without too much guilt.

   Still worse was the need to wash out the wounds.  She used a syringe much like those given to people who had had wisdom teeth removed to flush the injuries with saline solution.  She heard "Giovanni" grit his teeth, but never mentioned it.  In fact, the two spoke little beyond the occasional question if more of the numbing salve was needed.  After the wounds were stitched and well slathered in antibacterial ointments, Tess wrapped them in several layers of gauze to keep them undisturbed for the time being.  She had a feeling that it was going to be a long night, and she'd like to do all she could to keep her stitches from being ripped out.

   The only moment that was not so grim came after Tess managed to get Sands' jeans off him.  While in the process she had been too busy to observe anything.  It was beyond her why men _or_ women felt the need to squeeze themselves into tight pants.  She knew why, but her intellect still declared it was stupid.  _It'd probably be easier to cut them off, but I don't know if I'm going to be able to replace these. I'd rather he have pants should the need arise._  

   Finally getting the black denim off, she looked up to see if she had caused too much pain and saw the pattern on his boxers.  They were black cotton with yellow smiley faces.  _Oh my god.  That just figures, doesn't it?_

   "Look, I know the view is admirable, but when it's cold, its really not worth the attention you're giving it.  If you wouldn't mind?"

   Tess looked up guiltily, before realizing that he wouldn't be able to see what she was doing, or not doing for that matter.  Still, her cheeks were lightly flushed.  To recover her composure, she quipped, "You know, I had you figured as a boxer brief kind of guy."

   He looked puzzled for a moment, but then his forehead cleared of the baffled lines.  "You know, I had forgotten I was wearing those today."  He laughed bitterly.  "They were supposed to be my good-luck boxers.  Fat lot of good they did me."  After that, the mood in the room stayed oppressively somber.

   Finally, Tess could do more.  There was nothing left to tend to but Sands' face, and all that entailed.  This was most likely going to be one of the hardest things she had ever done.  And it would be no easier for him.  He had kept his sunglasses on as if to deny his injury, which was ridiculous.  The blood now dried and caked on his face and throat told their own story.

   She sat on the bedside for several minutes praying for fortitude for them both, and a light touch for her.  In the hour she had been tending his other wounds, Sands had had four more pain attacks, each one coming closer together with more intensity.  There was no way she was going to be able to do this without causing more pain, and she hated that.  Hated how helpless it made her feel.  She was a doctor – she was supposed to make pain go away, not incite it.  Yet here she was, numerous painkillers on hand, and not one she could safely give him.  Except for the one that was still in his system.

   Staring at her hands she asked, "You know I'm going to have to tend to all your wounds, right?"  His right hand was just visible from the corner of her eye.  She watched it curl into a fist in her bedding.  "I need to clean up your face, and then . . . and then take a look at . . . at the . . . the injuries.  And I'll probably need to flush them out in the same way I did your bullet wounds."  The knuckles of his hand turned white.  

   "Now, Novocain isn't going to do much to dull the pain, even if I gave it to you in injection form.  It's just too mild a painkiller.  But there is one possibility to make this more . . . more comfortable . . . _physically comfortable.  I can give you another shot of the same stuff that the cartel gave you.  It wouldn't make the pain go away, but it would make it seem more distant.  Less of a threat.  The cartel must have overdosed you severely, but I could avoid doing that.  I think.  I have no way of knowing how much is still in your system.  But it's up to you.  I won't give you anything without your permission . . . unless I feel that doing otherwise would be putting your life in danger."  She had to be truthful with him.  This was going to put him in an incredibly vulnerable state, one that he would most likely hate her for.  Hate her for perpetuating._

   "Why can't you put me under?"  The question was strained even if his face was emotionless.

   "Because of that bastard Guevera.  He knew what he was doing when he gave Barillo's henchmen that medication.  It's a type of neural suppressant that interacts badly with any kind of painkiller or narcotic.  Ten percent of patients who have a reaction slip into a coma.  But seventy percent die because their heart stops."  She laughed dryly.  "They wanted to make sure that even if you did seek out help, it would only kill you.  I always knew there was a good reason I hated them all."  She fell silent for a moment.  "I can tell you this though.  If we proceed with just the Novocain, it'll handle the pain of actually cleaning the blood off your face.  But once I start cleaning and examining the actual wounds, the pain will probably be so great that it will overcome the last of the drugs in your system, and you'll pass out.  As small of a comfort as that may be."

   Tess let Sands think.  She was offering him a hell of a choice.  Incredible pain and oblivion in which he would be defenseless, or more of a drug that had left him defenseless enough for this to happen in the first place.

   Ten minutes or so went by as he weighed his options.  "Is this drug habit forming?  Am I going to walk out of here as messed up as an opium addict?"

   "Not after just one more dose.  Anything past that, and yes, addiction is a possibility, especially if you're addicted to anything else."  Tess just trailed off.  What else was there to say?  The choice was his.

   "I'd ask you to simply shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery, but I suspect you're getting tired of cleaning up my blood."

   "No, I wouldn't ask that if I were you."  She felt cold at how casually he spoke of murder and suicide.  If she hadn't been able to tell that he was a natural killer upon first seeing him, she'd be able to now.  She wasn't even sure why she was helping him.  She'd watched him gun down people today with no remorse.  Of course today might be a bad day to set standards for him.  But she had been around enough men like him to know that killing men gave him no more pause to stop than killing an insect.  She wondered if her own quest had driven her mad as he.  _But surely, he didn't deserve this.  If it's in your power to help, hadn't you do so?  The only person you're capable of judging is yourself.  Beyond that, you're out of your depth._

   "Give me the drug."  Tess was startled out of her thoughts, and grateful that it had happened before she had given herself a headache.  She wasn't too surprised by the decision.  This way he would at least be aware of what was happening around him.

   "Okay," she whispered.  "Just give me a moment to prepare a dose."

It was simple and easy to fill an unused syringe with enough of the medication to circumvent Sands' nerve endings.  Tess even used a little less than a full dose to make up for what was still circulating through his veins.  She came back to the bed, needle and a jar of cotton swabs in hand.  She sat down on the edge of the bed and said, "You're going to want to lie down for this.  When we're through, we'll sit you back up because it'll probably be more comfortable to sleep in that position for the time being."  _Until your eyes stop bleeding.  He nodded, probably guessing at what she hadn't said.  Slowly, he started to lower himself onto the bed._

   She started to help him, but then realized just how unwelcome that move would be, so she kept her hands to herself.  She supposed his silence was gratitude enough for that.  Once he was laying down, she set the syringe on the nightstand, and opened a drawer.  She removed a handgun from it – a simple revolver.  Her first weapon.  The gun she had learned to shoot with.  Carefully, she placed it in his hand.

"What's this?"  It was a rhetorical question and they both knew it.  Sands knew what a gun felt like, no matter what his state of mind was.

   "I thought you might feel better if you knew that I knew that you could do me some lasting harm should I overstep my boundaries as a physician.  In other words, feel free to fire off a round if you have even the slightest suspicion that I'm betraying your confidence."

   The woman was crazier than he was.  He was beginning to doubt if she was really even a doctor.  What made her think that he could keep from firing the next time the pain got the better of him?  What made her think he wouldn't kill her as soon as she was done to keep his whereabouts a secret?  "Are you fucking nuts?"

   "No, señor.  Simply trying to level the playing field.  I thought you might appreciate the gesture."

   "The gesture.  So what, there's not bullets in this gun?"

   "Oh no, I assure you that there are six rounds in that weapon.  I simply know that I'm such a good doctor that you'll have no need or cause to fire it."  Tess reached for the pitcher of water, the wastebasket, and her cotton swabs.  Then, having everything situated to her satisfaction, she reached for the syringe.  "I'll explain the steps I take as I take them, so you know what's going on."  She primed the injection.  "You're going to feel a little jab."  

   She gave the shot quickly and efficiently.  "Now, I want you to tell me when things start getting blurry, when reality seems to be hazy, distant."  While she waited for the drug to take affect, she pulled on a pair of latex gloves.  She didn't want anything from her hands getting into the wounds.

   Tess didn't have to wait long.  After about ninety seconds, Sands made a noise.  It sounded like, "I'm ready," but she really wasn't sure.  It was enough to be going on with though.

   "Okay.  I'm going to start by cleaning the blood off your neck and face."  Sands reached up to remove his sunglasses, but she stopped him.  "You can wait until the last minute to remove those, 'Giovanni.'  I'm in no hurry."  His hand fell back down to his side.

   She was as gentle as she could be as she cleaned the dried blood off his face.  It was stubborn, not wanting to be removed, but she was determined to remove the mask of gore that was doing so much to keep this man a mystery.  She had no desire to know him intimately, but she needed to at least be able to read his face if she was going to be able to tend him to the best of her ability and his willingness.

   As much as she lingered over her task, all too quickly she reached the point where she would have to ask Sands to remove his glasses.  She refused to do it herself.  Wanted to give him control over at least that.  "Señor?  Señor, I've cleaned as much of you as I can without removing your glasses.  I was wondering if you wanted me to remove them, or if you would rather do it."  She waited for a response for several minutes, but got none.  "Señor?"

   Slowly, Sands reached up and removed the shades that were hiding the worst of his injuries.  Tess waited until his hand was back at his side before moving her eyes to her face.  What she saw was much more graphic than what she had been prepared for.  While she had seen doctors remove organs and tissue from the bodies of organ donors, this was nothing like that.  Involuntarily she gasped, "Madre de Díos."

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**Author's Thanks – thanks to ****Merrie, **Sue**, ****Miss ****Becky, **Luck11**, and **Vera** for reviewing.  You guys have been brightening my days since I started writing this.  Thanks a ton.**


	5. Misleading Information

**Shorter than the last one, but then it was rather long, so I guess it all evens out.  More coming tomorrow with any luck, but it's going to be a busy day for me tomorrow, so I'm not sure.**

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Tess felt herself shaking with both revulsion and nearly uncontrollable anger.  Not at the man lying on her bed, but at the men who had ordered and carried this out.  They had done a piss pour job of anything.  _Ok, so they left this until the last minute and then had to rush through it.  That's no excuse for this . . . this . . . butchery.  They didn't even complete the procedure!  She had to swallow to keep from gagging._

   In that single instant, she wished she had pumped both Barillo's and Ajedrez's bodies full of lead.  They deserved it for having thought of this.  And Guevera, well, he was a dead man if someone else hadn't already taken care of that.  The man wasn't a doctor, he was a little kid who enjoyed pulling the wings off flies and the legs off spiders.  If he were still alive then she was going to track him down and teach him the error of his ways.  For this and for every other "procedure" he had ever inflicted upon another living being.  It would be a long and painful lesson.

   In that moment she was supremely glad that she had given her patient the nearly hallucinogenic narcotic that was keeping his pain at bay.  Even with the drug, correcting this mess was going to cause enough pain to make him lose consciousness.  At least his body wouldn't go into immediate shock from the blood loss.  Yes, he'd be nearly unconscious for the next few days maybe, but he should stay alive.  And perhaps the greatest pain would pass by then.

   "Señor?  Señor?"  She rested a gloved hand on the side of his face, trying to be certain that he was paying attention to what she needed to say.  Not that she _could be certain.  "Señor, I'm going to have to do quite a bit of . . . of housekeeping.  I'm afraid that Guevera left a bit of a mess behind when he was done.  This is going to hurt, but I'll be as careful as I can.  If it gets to be too much, we can take a break.  Do you understand what I'm saying?"_

   "The bastard did a number on me?"  The words sounded as if they were making their way out his mouth through a haze of pain and befuddlement, but at least they were semi-lucid.

   "Yeah, he did a number on you.  But I'm going to do my best to keep that number as low as I can.  I'm going to start now.  Okay?"  She was his jaw clench.  "Okay then," she whispered.  Then she picked up a small roll of gauze and started soaking up as much of the blood as she could.

Sands was beginning to wonder if he had really lost his eyes.  He could have sworn that he kept seeing flashes of color.  Somewhere his mind was telling him that this was caused by misfired neurons in his brain, but he wasn't paying too much attention to that.  Instead, most of his focus was set on keeping himself from screaming.  He wouldn't have minded letting out a bellow or two if he could have been sure that it would have sounded manly.  But no, he was certain that if he let himself scream then it was going to come out as the girliest scream ever uttered by masculine lips, and that after that he would start begging for the pain to stop, for his tormentor to stop.  He last real link with reality was the handle of a gun in his hand, and the quiet, nearly incomprehensible murmurs of the woman tending him.

   No matter how gentle she was being, though, it wasn't enough.  It seemed as if the air itself was keeping the fiery agony blazing in his eye sockets.  On and on it went, never letting up, never growing bad enough for his mind to simply shut down and let him escape.

   He had no idea how long this lasted before one particularly deep touch set off an explosion of light in his mind.  His entire body stiffened, his spine arching off the bed.  He managed to contain his screams deep in his throat, but he still heard them in all their clarity.  A muffled voice cut through the pain and the light, "Shh.  I'll stop.  I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . ."

   _There was a light blinding him.  He looked around the small darkened room.  "Sorry baby, but your plan was too small. . . ."  That bitch Ajedrez was still alive.  She was sitting on the edge of a nearby table, smirking at him.  Some part of him cried out that he had already killed her, but he must have been mistaken.  Not a problem, he'd kill her now._

_   "Die bitch," he hissed.  Her expression didn't change.  Not even when he pulled the trigger and heard faint screams.  Before he could shoot again, blackness rushed up to claim him.  The last thing he heard was a weak moan.  He sincerely hoped that he had killed her._

Tess was being as careful as she could, but she knew that each touch, each wisp of wind stirred by her movements was just increasing the man's agony.  Why had she even agreed to give him more of the drug?  Surely it would have been kinder to them both, but especially for him, if he had been able to pass out.  But no.  She had respected the wishes of a man near crazed with pain, and now she was regretting it.

   _What's a few more regrets?  Isn't that what led me to bring him here in the first place?  Regrets and guilt over situations I can't change or influence, yet feel responsible for anyway?_

_   **But if you don't try to make payment for the cartel's acts, who will?**_  Tess hated that voice, the one that spurred her to right all the wrongs made by one family.  A family she had never even truly been a part of.  **_But you do listen, and you listen because you're afraid that without some sort of penance,  the blood of your father will rise in your veins and you'll find that you're just as capable as he of doing things like this._**

_   Stop.  I have other things to worry about right now._

This was a familiar argument to Tess.  One she repeated with herself nearly every day.  It didn't always run along those lines, but always on parallel ones.  It was enough to drive her mad, or it would be if she weren't already.

   **_Yes the schizophrenia.  Always there waiting to drag you down._  It wasn't as bad as that.  True, she had been diagnosed with the disease, but she had had one, _one, episode since then.  It was extremely mild, and with regular medication it didn't hinder her life at all.  Provide interesting voices to argue with?  Yes.  But she was always able to tell that they were generated by her own mind._**

  She was so focused on keeping her touch light and her mind clear, that she didn't notice when the hand holding the pistol shifted to rest against her side.  The first indication of trouble that she had was her patient's spine nearly bowing his body off the bed, and a muffled scream of pain.  She responded instantly by pulling her hands back and saying in a very apologetic and near desperate voice, "Shh.  I'll stop.  I'm sorry, I'm sorry."  It was then that she felt the barrel of her revolver dig into her side, and heard Sands say, "Die bitch."** **

   The next thing she knew, her side was on fire, the sound of a gunshot was ringing in her ears, and the scent of gunpowder was filling her nose.  She stumbled back from the bed, a moan low in her throat.  _Damnit_ that hurt!  Flippin' A!  _Tess pressed a hand to her side, and brought it to her face.  It was red.  "Great, more blood to clean up."  Having made that complaint she collapsed in a nearby chair._


	6. Dreams May Come

**This is more a chapter devoted to some character development/explanation for Tess.  To help you understand part of what motivates her.  Hope you enjoy, and the next chapter will contain Sands, and possibly a tiny bit of hope for may seem like a hopeless situation.**

**Sorry for any mistakes when it comes to treatments for mental illnesses.  All information I'm getting is coming from a first year psych book.  If you know more about preventing/treating the symptoms of schizophrenia than I do, feel free to shoot me an e-mail, and I'll correct as much as I can without having to do massive amounts of re-writing.**

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Tess couldn't believe he had actually shot her.  She had thought he was too far out of it to even remember he had a gun.  She should have known better.  For all she knew, this man was a mercenary who never forgot he had a weapon.  She sat in the chair she had collapsed in, her side having settled down to a persistent throbbing, and her mind extremely grateful that she had indeed given her patient the one weapon in the house loaded entirely with blanks.  Sure, they still could do some damage at close range, but they were ever so much safer than live ammunition.  Had she given him one of the guns he had come in with, she'd be dead now rather than minorly disabled.

   She still needed to tend the wound however, and that was unlikely to be fun.  Standing slowly, she started unbuttoning her caramel colored shirt.  Pulling it off her shoulders with the utmost care, she walked into the bathroom to have a closer look at her side without acting like a contortionist.  Which would also be painful.

   _Just what I expected, she thought as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror.  There was some bleeding from a smallish wound about four inches above her hipbone, and it was surrounded with two to three inches of powder burn and soot.  __That's going to be painful to clean.  She looked around for any supplies, then remembered that they were all located next to her patient's bed._

   She walked out of the bathroom in capris and bra, stripping off her rubber gloves as she went.  Kneeling down, she rummaged until she found what she wanted.  Some gentle yet highly antibacterial soap, several large gauze pads, and burn ointment.  Before returning to the bathroom, she checked in on her patient.  He was unconscious.  Or at least she assumed he was since he didn't respond to her gentle probing of any of his wounds, so she was ready to leave well enough alone.  She wanted to be angry with him, but had better sense than that.  She was the one who had given him the gun in the first place.  _Stupid idea, that.  I'll not be trying that again._

Hours later, Tess was woken up by the mumbled protests of her patient.  She had finished cleaning and tending to his eyes two or three hours ago, a procedure that he had stayed unconscious for.  Shortly after that, she had set up and IV and then drawn a pint of her own blood to use as a transfusion for him.  That had been decided as soon as she had been able to search through the pockets of his jeans.  His wallet had been in his back pocket, and while it was not surprisingly short on personal information such as names, addresses, phone numbers, or anything else, it did have a medical care card which listed his blood type, height, weight, and any known allergies or medical conditions.

   Now she was tired from bloodloss herself, but she knew it was more important to get blood into him than it was to keep it in herself.  If all went well, she'd be able to repeat the process once more in 48 hours.  After that, he'd either have to make do without, or she'd have to contact a woman she knew who worked for the hospital.  She'd rather not do that just quite yet.  It might rouse suspicions that she'd prefer to avoid for the time being.

   Sands was restless in his dreams, apparently reliving the recent traumas of his life.  His hands were searching for something, the only part of his body moving.  The rest seemed to be locked in place by whatever was oppressing his dreams.

   Tess wasn't sure of what to do.  She hated to have to witness anyone in such physical or mental pain.  If it were anyone else, she'd take their hand and sit by their side for the rest of the night, but something about this stranger made that seem childish.  _But surely that's better than nothing._

   She moved over to the bed where she had managed to elevate Sands into a semi-sitting position by using every single pillow in her house.  His sunglasses were back on his face, sitting over a layer of gauze, his countenance still free of blood after several hours, which encouraged her.  She cautiously moved onto the bed, sitting on the edge, facing the same way he was.  When he didn't wake up, didn't acknowledge her presence in any way, Tess let out the breath she had been holding.  Carefully, she slid her hand across the blankets until his questing hand found it.

   For a second it recoiled, and noises came from his throat.  Once again she held her breath – if he awoke and attacked her before remembering who she was it was likely he'd manage to kill her before coming to his senses.  They may have been the same height, but he was undoubtedly stronger than she was.

   Her fears were unbased in this instant, however.  A second after recoiling, his hand darted forward and grabbed hers, tightening almost painfully around it.  She could feel her fingers tingling, but she ignored them.  Her patient was actually relaxing, as if the contact she had initiated was acting as a lifeline back to reality, and now that he had found it, he could rest.

   "I would wish you sweet dreams, but I think that it would be better to wish you no dreams at all."  She sighed.  "Sleep while you can, get back your strength.  We can't stay here forever."

In her dreams she was eight again, and in the midst of being punished.  This time the cause had been getting a 98% on a geography quiz.  Nothing less than perfection was accepted by the man who controlled her life.  Anything else was a failure, and failure was weakness, and weakness was not tolerated.

   She had been blindfolded for the past two weeks, her eyes shut off from light for the entire time.  She tensed as she felt the hands behind her loosening the knot on the scarf tied over her eyes.  From past experience, Teresa knew that the first few minutes were going to be incredibly painful, the outside world of the noonday sun reflecting brilliantly off the white limestone courtyard just another reminder that her life depended entirely on the mercy of her father.  She contained a scream as the light hit her eyes, knowing that if she let out a single sound, she'd be whipped until she had no voice left.

_   "You've disappointed me again, Teresa Adame."_  Her squinting eyes sought and found the source of her father's voice.  He was the one dark spot in a sea of blinding glare.  His hair was dark, his skin dark from the sun, his eyes so dark a blue as to be nearly black.  She was convinced that he was just as dark inside as he was outside.  _"I've given you back your sight and yet you cower and squint like a peasant child."  She heard giggles from her half-sister, standing nearby to witness the event.  Even two years younger, the girl had their father's complete support in a way that Tess couldn't imagine.  But then again, she was __legitimate and Tess was not._

   Straightening her posture, Tess whispered, _"I'm sorry, Father.  I will do better next time."_  It was as useless now to protest that the tutor had never taught her the rest of the material on the test.  It didn't matter.  Excuses were not wanted.  She was expected to have known anyway.

_   "Yes, you are.  I can't imagine what I was thinking when I took that whore's word that you were my child.  Look at your sister, even two years younger and she pleases me more in a day than you have in your entire life.  Lazy, stupid, selfish."_  The words weren't new, but they still stung and struck and clung with a physical presence, tearing at her heart and mind.  _"This time, though, this time your errors have effected someone else."_  She didn't understand until she heard the pleas of her tutor coming closer to the group.

   **_No, I don't want to watch this again.  I'm sorry I didn't do better then.  But I learned my lesson, I did.  Don't make me see this._  She pleaded with her dream to let her go.  For a moment she thought she had swayed it, that it was going to release her.  Instead the setting changed.  She could tell that she was now an adult, but she was still at the house that had been the cartel's base in her childhood.  Was still in that hated courtyard.**

   And the screams, the pleas, they were still ringing off the stone.  Looking around she saw her father, his face wrapped in medical gauze, his hand resting on the shoulder of her half-sister who was still six years old, still grinning, delighted that Tess was in trouble.

   _"See what you've done now, Teresa Adame.  See the suffering you could have prevented."  Tess obeyed the voice and stepped forward, her body moving without her having to direct it.  Or maybe it was the dream that shifted around her and made walking unnecessary.  Whatever the means, she found herself staring at the back of a black clothed surgeon.  He was operating on a man strapped to a table.  The blinding light made it difficult to see for a moment, but as she squinted she saw the victim.  It was the man she had supposedly helped the day before._

   _"Your fault, Teresa.  If you had stayed I would have let you drug him into unconsciousness.  I would have let you remove his eyes properly.  But you ran, and he suffered.  Too bad."_

Tess woke in a cold sweat, her side burning, her face wet with tears, and her patient still blessedly asleep.  She squinted, light from the rising sun coming in through her bedroom window and blinding her.  _Not again,_ she thought.  She couldn't deal with the dreams right now.  She had enough to deal with at the moment without having to relive the most hellish parts of her childhood.

   _Missed sleep isn't even the worst part of it all, she mused as she walked to the bathroom.  _The worst part is how dirty I feel in the morning.  And I can't even shower, not with this burn on my side._  She tried to keep her mind from remembering what had really happened that day when she was eight.  _Maybe by tomorrow I can take a shower.  That would be nice._  It wasn't working.  Pictures of blood and echoes of dying screams were running though her mind._

   Tess gritted her teeth and tried to focus on other matters.  _Should I go for a jog this morning, or not?_  She looked at her patient and was reminded of her dream. _No.  I don't think it's a very good idea to leave him alone quite yet.  Besides, I don't know if the fighting is over yet._  Surely it was.  Culíacan had a decent police force.  They must have quelled the fighting by now.

   The memory was rebelling against her control.  With undeniable violence it forced it's way to the front of her mind.  She felt her body slam against the wall as the memory took control of her psyche.  _The tutor hadn't known what or who she was dealing with when she had taken this job.  Failure was not just laid at the feet of the student, but at the feet of the teacher as well.  What couldn't be done to a child being raised for a single purpose could be done to someone as expendable as a tutor.  Tess was made to watch as the woman was beaten within an inch of her life and was then executed.  All because she had taken more time to befriend an unloved child than she took to drill places and dates into her head._

_   Tess had thrown up at the sight of a friend's blood showing with dramatic contrast on the white cobbles of the courtyard.  She was slapped hard enough to bruise both eyes and then sentenced to two weeks of bread and water meals for an unsuitable display of sentiment.  The next day she was forced to again don the hated blindfold.  Hated because all she could see against the velvety blackness of the material was her teachers broken body lying like an abomination in the sun, green grass and stately trees presenting a mocking backdrop to the scene._

_   Young Tess decided that no one should ever again suffer for her mistakes._

The memory let her go.  She stood leaning against the wall, slowly realizing that the rising sun was warming her, giving comfort she hadn't known from her so-called family.  In the back of her mind she could feel other memories and nightmares stirring, encouraged by the success one of their number had had in escaping her control.  _No.  Not again.  Not until I can afford it._

   Tess raced into the bathroom, urgency making her movements quick and precise the same way they were when she was performing surgery.  Opening the mirror door to her medicine cabinet, she grabbed the injection of dopamine inhibitor she always kept prepared.  It came in a gun-like applicator, one that held several dosages.  Quickly she pressed the apparatus up to her upper thigh and pulled the trigger.  She felt a pinch as the needle injected the medication into her body.  

   Rubbing the slight hurt, she slid down the wall to sit on the floor and waited for the drug to quiet the rebellion fermenting in her mind.

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**Ok, here are the author thanks for those I couldn't reach by e-mail.  Please, next time include an e-mail address so I can reply that way.  Love you all.**

**Gypsylemon**** – I know, isn't the name 'Giovanni' great?  For some reason, it just popped into my head when I was thinking of the character.  I'm not sure how much an improvement it is on 'Sheldon,' but hey, I thought I'd go with Sands on this one.  He's kinda cranky at the moment.**

**Vera – **cliffhangers are a writer's best friend as far as I can tell.  They keep the audience interested, and a host of possibilities of where to resume the story.  So I doubt that this will be the last one you'll be seeing from me.  I do promise not to leave you in suspense for too long though.

**Lucky11**** – yeah, I'm not so sure that this will be leading into "wink wink, nudge nudge" territory any time soon, simply because I'm not sure how to work something into the interplay between two such screwed up people, and it would give me an incentive should I ever want to write a sequel, in which my main characters would hopefully not be so screwed up and therefore easier to get into bed with at least a modicum of believability.**


	7. Proving Murphy's Law

**Author's Note – this was actually a fun chapter for me to write, mainly because I spent part of my time looking up Spanish poetry, which was fun.  Just happened to _love the poem in this chapter, and had to give it to you in both English and Spanish form.  Without the original Spanish, I'm not sure it's quite as enjoyable.  It really struck a chord in my about how Sands must be feeling right now._**

**AN2**** – got the soundtrack today.  Love it.  That's all there is to say.  Just love it.**

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Trapped.  He was trapped.  The lack of light was pressing all the air from his chest, weighing down his arms and legs, slowing his mind, curdling his wits.  But it did nothing to dampen his hearing.

   The voices.  The y were going to drive him out of his mind, which by now might be a relief.  Anything to make the voices shut the hell up.  He couldn't even identify half of them or what they were saying.  But against the audio background provided by the incomprehensible murmurs were other, clearer voices.

   Those were the ones he would have given anything to ignore, to silence.  Accusing voices, pleading voices.  Voices raised in anger, shaking with fear and pain, letting out a last surprised gasp before dying.  Mocking voices, condemning voices, voices taunting the great Sands who now found his every strength, every tactic, every defense bound as tightly as his sight.

   And then, rising above all the other voices came his own, the voice that had ultimately betrayed him.  He heard himself explaining his entire plan to Ajedrez, heard himself explaining the glitches in his plan to the higher-ups.  Heard himself talking, walking himself through his self-proclaimed, fool-proof plan.  _And what if the planner is a fool?_  Heard his voice tinged with desperation and madness after emerging from the cartel's lair.  How he _hated that voice._

   He couldn't take it anymore.  If he listened any longer, he'd awake to find himself babbling nightmares and nonsense.  But how did he wake up?

   **_Open your eyes Sheldon._  The madness in his voice was mocking him again.  ****_Oh, wait, you can't, can you?  Poor Sheldon.  Can't wake up, can't open his eyes.  Stuck with me for company.  Come play with me, Sheldon.  Poor, poor, weak, helpless, stupid, Sheldon._  He felt a cool hand gently stoking his brow and heard the soft, mournful voice of a woman saying,**

"No tardes, Muerte, que muero; **_Do not linger, Death, for I am dying;_**

ven porque viva contigo; **_come so I may live with you;_ **

quiéreme, pues que te quiero, **_love me, because I love you . . . ._**

   Sands woke with a start only to find more darkness.

It was the third hour after dawn by the time Sands awoke.  Tess had used that time well, having changed the dressings on not only her wound, but on most of her patient's as well.  She had left his face alone, wanting some of the sensitivity to go down before she tended it.  Or perhaps she was waiting for the rest of the drugs to work their way through his system so she could give him more effective painkillers.  _He should have awoken at least once by now.  There couldn't have been that much of the drug in his system or he never would have passed out in the first place.  Even with her doubts though, she decided it was best for him to sleep, to perhaps find some peace in unconsciousness._

   She took his pulse, blood pressure, and temperature.  While his blood pressure was a bit lower than she would have like to see it, it was within acceptable limits for a man who had been wounded as severely and who had lost as much blood as he had.  However, his temperature had her a bit concerned.  It was hovering around 99.0 degrees, which was high for a man who by all rights should still be chilled by shock.  She'd have to watch him closely to make sure he didn't develop any infections or a temperature.

   All this had only taken an hour or so, but she had done a bit of cleaning, had washed his clothes and set them out to dry.  It was unusually warm for October so far, so she thought that they would be dry by noon.  After checking on her patient, who was still sleeping, she had washed her hair in the kitchen sink.  _I wonder if I have any black thread about.  Needles I have in plenty, but I'd hate to mend his clothing with catgut._  

   Idly she wondered when Marcos was going to make an appearance today.  If she knew the boy as well as she thought she did, he wouldn't let anything from militia to parents stop him from coming by today.  Time to go check on her patient again.

   Still asleep.  She laid a hand on his forehead, checking to see if his temperature had risen considerably in the last half hour.  He was warm, but not near warm enough to start worrying about quite yet.  As she sat on the edge of the bed she roller her head back and forth, stretching her neck and shoulder muscles.  Last night had been fairly uncomfortable, but productive; every one of 'Giovanni's' stitches were still in place.

   She thought about the man she had found yesterday and compared him to the stranger in her bed.  One of the many poems she had memorized to help quell the voice in her mind rose to her lips at the thought of that black and blood clad gunman.  Still stroking his forehead, she recited, in Spanish;  "Do not linger, Death, for I am dying; come so I may live with you; love me, because I love you –"

   Apparently her words had reached the ears of the sleeping man, for Sands woke with a start, nearly making her scream.  She jerked her hand back and stood up.  slowly backing away from the bed, her heart in her throat, she asked, "Señor, are you well?"  He started coughing when he tried to reply, his throat and vocal chords too dry to make any sound.  She reached for the water bottle by her bedside, "Here, drink some water, it'll help."  He held out a hand and she placed the bottle in front of it.

Sands drank from the bottle gratefully.  Anything that would stop the coughs, stop the pain exploding in his head each time his lungs forced air out his throat.  The water didn't taste as if it were straight from the tap – it was free of the chemicals pumped into the city's water supply.  Despite those chemicals, he had avoided drinking any of the tap water here.  Yes, he had gotten the required shots before coming out here, but he didn't want to take any unnecessary risks.

   **_Right.  No unnecessary risks._  Though he was awake, the voice still mocked him, although not as loudly.  Willing himself to concentrate on something else, he lowered the bottle from his lips and asked his doctor, "Is that how you break bad news to all your patients, or am I a special case?"**

   If he could have seen Tess, he would have seen her blush, abashed at being caught at what she considered a childish pastime.  "No."  The word got caught in her throat; Sands heard her clear it.  Trying again, she said, "No.  I was simply passing time until you woke up."  He heard her approach the bed again, her steps hesitant as if she saw him as a wounded animal who would lash out at her at the slighted provocation or opportunity.  He liked that idea, that even lying down in a bed he was still dangerous.

   Tess saw the man smirk and knew it was because of her hesitance.  Gathering her courage she quickened her step, taking the now empty bottle from his hand.  Turning to throw it in the wastebasket she said, "You should lie down again.  You're still weak after losing so much blood yesterday.  I doubt your body has recovered."

   Damn the girl, she was right.  He could feel the pain taking prominence in his mind, drowning out the last echoes of that voice that haunted the darkness that now surrounded him waking and sleeping.  While he no longer had to try to ignore that voice, he now wanted to take his mind off the pain.  "What was that poem you were reciting?"

   "Umm . . . that was part of 'Dos Canciones' by Jorge Manrique.  He's one of my favorite Spanish poets."

   "Grim subject material."

   She was surprised, not that she was sure why.  She hadn't thought he knew Spanish for some reason, but surely he had to have some knowledge of the language to get into so much trouble with the cartel.  Most of their written intelligence was coded Spanish, and most of the members didn't even know English.  She saw he was waiting for a reply of some kind.  "Yes, well, a favorite nonetheless."

   The American sighed.  "Well, don't let me stop you.  I'd hate to have to look up how it ended for myself, especially since that might take me awhile."  When he didn't hear his hostess say anything, he commented, "What?  Scared of a private recital, niña?  Or don't you know the rest?"  If she wasn't going to talk, perhaps he could entertain himself with pissing her off.

   It was working to.  Tess was glaring daggers at the man, not that it was having any affect on him.  She supposed it was hard to intimidate a man who couldn't tell you were trying to.  **_Why don't you just humor the man?  Afraid of admitting you need help to ignore me?_**

_   No, I just don't want to.  That's why.  Go mind your own business.  _

_   **You **_**are_ my business, dearie._  Determined to show her know-it-all mind that it did not know everything about her, she started where she had left off.  " . . .for with your coming –"**

   "From the beginning.  And in the original Spanish if you don't mind."

   Tess sighed and started from the beginning.  Within seconds she was lost in the language and feeling of the poem.

"No tardes, Muerte, que muero; **_Do not linger, Death, for I am dying;_**

ven porque viva contigo; **_come so I may live with you;_**

quiéreme, pues que te quiero, **_love me, because I love you,_ **

que con tu venida espero **_for with your coming I hope _**

no tener guerra conmingo. **_not to struggle with myself._**

Remedio de alegra vida **_There is not, by any means, _**

no le hay por ningún medio, **_a remedy to make life happy _**

porque mi grave herida **_because my grave wound _**

es de tal parte venida **_has come from such a place _**

que eres tú sola remedio. **_that only you can be my remedy._**

Ven aquí, pues, ya que muero; **_Come, then, because I am dying;_**

búscame, pues que te sigo; **_look for me, because I follow you;_**

e con tu venida espero **_and with your coming I hope_ **

no tener vida conmigo. **_not to keep life in myself._"**__****

Only after she was done, did Tess consider that might not have been the best thing to say to her patient.  It must have struck too close to home for him at the moment.  She knew that it did for her at times, that she had memorized the poem thinking that should she ever wish to commit suicide, it would have made a lovely parting statement, a fitting epithet.  She couldn't tell what the American was thinking, and she wasn't particularly eager to find out.

   Before she could inquire as to the state of his psyche, there was a loud knocking at her back door, a kind of desperate pounding meant to wake the very dead from their graves if that's what it took to capture attention.  "Crap," Tess muttered.  She sincerely hoped that it was Marcos at the back door in a state of extreme excitement.  She wasn't sure she could take anything else being heaped on her plate right now.

   Crouching down, she removed two of 'Giovanni's' guns from their holsters.  Making sure they had ammunition, she gave one to him and took the other for herself.  "I'm going to go see who is trying so enthusiastically to get my attention.  Try not to shoot me.  It would be a rather abrupt ending to a short day."  He flipped her off.

   Holding the gun down at her side, she approached the kitchen where the backdoor was.  It was a small house so this didn't take long.  She sidled along the walls, trying to remain out of sight of the small window in the door.  Carefully she peeked out it, blows falling on the wood the entire time.  "Shit," she breathed.  Louder she called out to her guest, "It's just Marcos."

   She opened the door and let Marcos come in along with his three siblings.  The two middle children were crying, the youngest a babe, too young to realize anything was wrong.  Tess felt her stomach sinking as she met Marcos' eyes.  They were far too serious for one so young.  "What is it Marcos?  What has happened?"

   "My parents . . . they're dead.  Our home isn't safe.  Can we stay here?"


	8. In Hora Mortis Nostrae

**Sorry this has taken me awhile, but life does not always give time to write, as much as you and I might wish otherwise.  In particular, I wish my favorite PotC author would hurry up and update her latest story.  : )  I know you all understand where I'm coming from.**

**Enjoy this little chapter I whipped out tonight.  (Little.  Phhst.  It's longer than most of my others.)  Please, let me know what you're all thinking, otherwise I can't try to fix anything you might find to be lacking.**

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Tess started to wonder how much worse things could possibly get before they started to get better, but stopped before she could jinx herself.  That was the last thing she needed.  Besides, if trouble and bad news did indeed come in threes, then there was another misfortune out there looking to claim someone she had taken under her roof.  She refused to give it any more power.

  "Sí, Marcos, of course you can all stay with me."  _But how long will **I be staying?  I had been planning on leaving within days before I decided to take in an injured man.**_  She looked at the children and her heart melted.  _I have to look after them.  They came to me.  They trust me._

   Trust wasn't enough to get Tess' frozen wits to move, however.  As she stood in the middle of her small kitchen with four children of various ages ranged around her, she fought off the panic and stress that would overwhelm her mental defenses against the schizophrenia that was always waiting for her to let her guard down.  Even the booster she had given herself that morning would be hard put to suppress all the symptoms, and she needed as much control as she could get at the moment.  _Plan, plan, plan.  I need a plan.  What first?  Finally.  A question she knew the answer to._

   _Deep breath.  That's it.  She filled her lungs several times.  __Ok.  Get the children settled, check on 'Giovanni,' start some soup for lunch.  That's enough to do for now._

   Marcos shifted on his feet as the baby started to fuss.  "Señora?"  The woman had this blank look on her face, like she was scared and didn't know what to do.  That was bad.  She was an adult, she wasn't supposed to be scared.  "Señora?  Are you alright?"  He reached out a hand to touch her arm.

   _Pull it together, Teresa Adame.  You're scaring Marcos.  Get out of your mind and into the real world.  Start talking, start **doing****.  It was a struggle not to give into the temptation to hide in her mind, to simply find an unoccupied corner and ignore things until they got better.**_

   **_That's it Tessa.  Just sit in a huddle for days on end until all your problems go away.  I could help you forget your problems.  All you have to do is come play with me.  Play with me, Tessa.  I'm so lonely . . . ._**

****_No!  She would not give into temptation, into madness.  She ripped her attention away from the sweetly cloying voice.  Marcos jumped back as Tess' eyes suddenly focused on him.  The baby started crying at the sudden movement.  Looking at him, Tess saw how overwhelmed, how lost and afraid he was, and she felt guilty for adding to his fears._

   "Don't worry, I was just thinking."  She had to raise her voice to be heard over the baby.  Holding out her arms, she said, "Here, let me."  Gently taking the baby from him, she asked, "Her name is Selena, right?"  Marcos nodded.  "And these two are Alma and René, right?"  The other boy and girl nodded, shy of this strange woman and her even stranger habit of staring blankly into space.  Tess understood what it was to be shy.  She wouldn't press her presence on them, but would let them warm up to her in their own time.  Until then, she'd let Marcos take charge of them.  Besides, a little responsibility might help him take his mind off other matters.

   "Marcos?  Will you show Alma and René around?  Show them the bathroom, and the spare bedroom where you'll all be sleeping?  There's some games in the living room if they would like to play.  I need to check up on your friend, or I would do it."

   "Can I see him, señora?"

   Tess saw the hope shining in his eyes.  For whatever reason, the boy had decided to attach himself to the mysterious man in her bedroom.  _I wish I knew whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.  "If he's feeling well, I don't see why not."  She bounced baby Selena on a hip, trying to quiet her.  __She probably needs her diaper changed.  "Go on.  You and I can discuss what will happen next later this afternoon, okay?"  He nodded._

   Content that everything was as good as it was going to get at the moment, Tess left the three orphans to their exploring.

Tess was incredibly thankful that she always kept a few baby supplies with her in case of emergencies.  There wasn't enough to last for an extended amount of time, but she did have what she needed to change Selena's diaper and to fix her a bottle, even though she knew that the young child was probably hungry for some solid food.  She wasn't that prepared though.

   With a semi-happy baby on her hip, she entered the room where Sands was staying.  The man seemed to have fallen asleep while waiting for her to come back.  _He must be in worse shape than I thought if he's dropping off like that.  He doesn't seem to be the kind of man to let his guard down while in enemy territory.  I wish I had better equipment to monitor him with.  She knew that was a foolish wish.  This man was suspicious enough of her – he'd end up killing a nurse out of pure nerves.  Sighing as she set Selena on the floor where she'd be content to play with some shoes, Tess approached her patient's bed._

   Her hand was halfway to his forehead to check his temperature when the gun in his hand snapped up to point at her face.  Well, about three inched to the right of her face.  "Señor!"  When she spoke, Sands corrected his aim with a surety that unnerved her.  "It's just me, Tessa.  Don't shoot.  Don't freak out.  You've already shot me once in the past twenty-four hours, and I can't deal with another crazy person right now."

   "Who's the other crazy person?"  She didn't answer, mainly because she didn't like how he had honed into that part of her reassuring speech first.

   When he decided that she wasn't going to reply, he sighed and lowered the gun.  "What do you mean I've already shot you once today?  I haven't had the chance yet."

   "Earlier, when I was tending your injuries."  He clearly didn't remember, but that didn't surprise her.  She hadn't thought he was that he had been totally aware of what had been going on.  From what she knew of such men, they were always sure of what they were doing, even if they had some reason for doing it that no one else would understand.  If he had forgotten the events of the night before, he must be struggling now to keep a grasp on reality.  "You managed to shoot me right before you lost consciousness last night."

   "I shot you?"  There was a hint of suspicion in his voice.

   "Yes, right in the side at point blank range.  With my own gun I might add."

   "Then why aren't you in considerably worse shape, niña?"  Again he raised his weapon.  "Is there anything else you'd like to share with me?" he asked mildly, for all the world as if he were a parent inquiring into a child's whereabouts when he was perfectly aware that she was somewhere she shouldn't be.

   _How about that I'm an idiot, in more ways than one?  Or that I'm really regretting giving you a gun again?  With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Tess slowly said, "If you're asking whether I lied to you or not, the answer is no.  I told you the gun had six rounds in it, and it did."  She swallowed, "I just didn't tell you that they were blanks."_

_The conniving little minx.  If I didn't know better, I'd say that I've just run into a fellow agent._  Sands, while he could appreciate the careful distribution of information, found he was upset to find himself at the opposite end of the food chain.  He was the one who was supposed to have all the cards, who was supposed to deal out who got what information like a card sharp stacks a deck to make sure the odds are in his favor.  It was bad enough he was fucking blind, but to be humored in the way that this woman had humored him?  It was intolerable.  He may be blind, but he wasn't stupid, and anyone who thought that they could take advantage of his current disability was in for a rude awakening.

   He was about to set into a verbal berating that would have made even the most oversexed man in the country lose his balls when a quiet thud sounded in the corner of the room.  Nerves already on highest alert reacted without him having to tell them to.  He took aim and fired his weapon three times at whoever had made the sound.  Once he was sure they were dead, then he'd take care of the woman who'd let them in.  _"It's just Marcos," indeed.  You just made one very large mistake, niña._

   Unfortunately, Sands underestimated Tess' own reflexes.  As soon as she had heard the shoe drop in the corner, she had known what her patient was going to think and how he was going to react.  Barely in time to move his hand before his finger squeezed the trigger, she slammed her shoulder into the man's arm, throwing off his aim.  The three bullets slammed into the wall about a foot from Selena, who started screaming from the sudden noise of the gunshots.  Sands dropped the gun as the baby started crying in order to slam his hands over his ears.  Apparently the high pitched wails of the frightened little girl were more than his poor head could take.

   Thinking that was the worst of it, Tess relaxed a mere nanosecond before the full scope of the chaos those three rounds had wrought made itself known.  Even as she was torn between seeing if she had further injured Sands or running to make sure Selena was alright, she heard screams coming from the living room.  _Por__ Díos! she had forgotten the other two children.  She didn't know where they had been when their parents were killed, but it was entirely within the realm of possibility that they had either heard or seen the whole thing.  But no matter what, hearing a gun fired in the same house they were currently in was going to scare them, even if they had no idea how their parents had died.  _Yes, let's give a severely injured and possibly mentally unbalanced man a **gun!  **Brilliant** idea, Tessa!  I'll be surprised if you don't get a Nobel for that one.**__

   Scooping up the gun and placing it on the window sill where she doubted Sands could get to it, Tess ran across the room and knelt by Selena.  A quick visual examination confirmed that the child was fine other than being scared out of her wits.  Scooping her up, she heard all sound in the living room abruptly come to a stop, as if cut off by a silencing hand.  However, the screams of the child in her arms more than made up for the decrease in noise.  They echoed off the walls and bare floors of Tess' house, making everything seem louder.

   "Damnit!  Would you stop that noise?!"

   "Maybe if you could manage to keep your overactive trigger finger from sporadically firing at things that you can't identify, I wouldn't have any noise to stop!"  Tess threw that thought over her shoulder as she made her way into the living room to check on the status of her young houseguests.

   She found them in a huddle on the floor, Marcos and Alma trying to keep a panicky René from crying out again.  They apparently knew the value of being silent when it was possible they were in a dangerous situation.  Marcos was looking more and more overwhelmed by the moment, and Alma had silent tears running down her cheeks.  The sight of their silent and terrified tableau made Tess want to cry out in agony.  No child should need to have such self-control at such a young age.  No child should be scared out of their wits in their last refuge.  How many other children in Mexico and America alike had cowered in this same way as the destruction and devastation caused by her family ran rampant around them?  How few had she helped?

   Quickly walking towards the group she set a still wailing Selena down.  "It's okay.  You don't have to stay quiet.  No one lives in the houses around here.  It's safe.  No one will hear you."  How did one encourage a child to act like a child?  "This is my fault.  I surprised a patient of mine and he overreacted.  But it's safe.  He won't hurt you.  I won't let him.  I won't let anyone else hurt you."  _Please, believe me._

   Marcos was the first to respond, letting go of his younger brother.  Alma slowly followed suit.  As soon as he was no longer restrained, René started crying, slow heart wrenching sobs.  He slowly got up and approached the one person in the room that represented even a modicum of safety in a world gone mad, and the woman he trusted to control the circumstances around them was only a knife's edge away from going mad herself.  But Tess did what she could, holding the boy as he shook and shivered and cried in fear and grief and loss.  What else could she do?  She was an adult and no matter how unprepared or  ill-equipped she felt, she was the one they were looking to for guidance.

   But even knowing that children had an inflated sense of what adults could understand or prevent, she felt herself making another oath, another promise to add to the bushels she had already made.  _I will care for this family.  She wasn't sure what that entailed, but she knew it didn't matter.  Whatever it took, she would see these children live without fear for as long as she could._

   Marcos and Alma soon followed their younger brother's lead, coming to hang and settling on and around Tess.  She looked at them.  Marcos had taken a position behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder, the other holding a fussing Selena.  Alma had practically melded herself to Tess' side, wrapping her small body around her arm.  Tess could feel the warmth of the girl's tears soaking through the sleeve of her cotton t-shirt.  

   _Now what?  This isn't the way I would have chosen to earn their trust, but now I have it.  So how do I comfort?  Tess realized just how little she knew about children.  She knew she could manage as a pediatrician in a pinch, but that didn't mean she knew anything about kids.  As a child and teen, the only person younger than her that she had had any interaction with was her younger half-sister, and she was sure that didn't count.  Her sister had always had the upper hand when it had come to their interactions.  She had never come running to Tess for comfort, had never asked Tess for advice._

    _Ok, then how did I ever comfort myself as I child?  Searching through her memories of a time in her life that she'd rather forget altogether, she remembered one particularly memorable Christmas.  Barillo had decreed that the entire faction of the cartel based in the compound where she lived was to attend Christmas mass.  It was then that she had first been grateful for her learned talent for near instant memorization, when she had heard the priest singing the _Ave Maria_.  For years after that, Tess had thought of that song whenever she got scared or whenever the pain from her most recent punishment was threatening to overwhelm her discipline. It had been years since she had let the words escape her lips, but she let them now, hoping that somehow the timeless song of praise would bring some sort of peace to her audience._

Sands was alone in the bedroom once again.  He had faintly heard Tess' reply and exit over the ringing in his head.  _I almost killed an innocent child.  For all the people he killed without discrimination, he hadn't yet killed an innocent child in cold blood.  Set things up so that there was the possibility they would die?  Yes.  But he hadn't actually ever pulled the trigger that had sent a bullet into one.  It was perhaps the one standard that he still had, a slight value for a life that was still innocent of manipulation and deception.  _Although at the moment I would be glad to revise that.  _How that child had managed to hit the one note in the entire human vocal range that would shatter his mind, he'd never know.  _Probably some kind of female intuition.  _All he knew was that her first wails had sent a exploding light of white pain through his nervous system.  _

   For several minutes he did nothing more than lean against the wall and wait for the incredible pain in his head to retreat.  Slowly and reluctantly it did, or at least it narrowed its focus to the empty sockets of his head.  Rationally he knew that it was nothing more than the rush of blood pulsing in the gaping holes, but part of his mind insisted that it was the permanent darkness there that trapped and amplified the fading pain, making sure that he didn't forget what he had lost yesterday.  _Yesterday?  It couldn't have been yesterday.  It had to have been years ago and I've been trapped in a pain induced delirium for weeks since then.  Years perhaps.  And it'll never get better, just like I'll never see again._

_   **Seen too much . . . seen too much . . . seen too much . . . .**_  The phrase repeated itself with each pulse of blood through his head.

   _Stop it.  Think of something else, Sheldon, anything other than that.  How weak had he become that he was begging himself to shut out the last sound he had seen.  _No, that was the drill.  The last sound I saw._  He was going to find that gun that his physician had taken from him and simply kill himself.  Anything to end this constant torment, the pain and memories, and the echoes of the last sound he had seen._

   Slowly and painfully he levered himself out of the bed.  The muscles of his legs were incredibly stiff with pain and a lack of motion.  He body was as weak as his mind he decided as a small gasp escaped his lips and his legs threatened to give out from underneath him.  But his will was still strong, or perhaps it had simply been taken over by madness.  Or was feeding off a combination of madness and pain.  No matter.  He was determined to die with some of his sanity intact.

   _Where did she set the gun?  Even in the throws of pain Sands had been aware enough to trace the woman's movements.  It was a gut feeling, pure survival instinct that made it possible for him to do so.  An injured animal's knowledge that every little sound and sight and smell might mean the difference between life and death.  _

   _By the wall, she set it by the wall.  He reasoned that there must be a window or something nearby that provided a resting place for the weapon.  Slowly moving his body, he felt a wave of heat fall across his face.  __Window.  There's the window.  Thinking back to what he had heard from Tess, what direction she had moved in.  It was possible that this was where she had set it down._

   Carefully, having to support himself against the walls and hating it, he made his way towards the window.  Carefully he felt along it's surface, feeling like the stereotypical blind man the entire time, he found the barrel of the gun.  Just as he was telling his fingers to close in around it so he could pick it up and put an end to his misery, he heard a faint sound coming from the living room.  It was soft and almost soothing if he allowed it to be.  Deciding that it was worth postponing his own death to find out what the hell Tess was doing now, he made his slow and feeble way down the hall.

   He was quiet as he moved, he made sure of that.  It was bad enough he knew that he was having a hard time moving.  No one else had to witness the extreme awkwardness with which he was making his way down the hall.  With every step the soft sounds of a woman singing quietly and with a certain amount of unease increased until he could understand what she say singing.

_Ave Maria, gratia plenta/**Hail Mary, full of grace**_

_Ora_ pro nobis peccatoribus/**pray for us sinners**__

_Nunc_ et in hora/**now and in the hour**__

_In hora mortis nostrae/**in the hour of our death**_

_Amen._

This benediction was the last thing Sands heard before he collapsed in the hallway from exhaustion.

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**Ok, have loved this version of 'Ave Maria' since I sang it in my sophomore year of high school in a cappella choir.  I did kinda skip the part about Mary and her child being blessed, simply because I wanted to get to the part that had meaning for this story.  Absolutely love Latin, which is why once again you have a 'quote' type thing in two different languages.  One of these days I'll find a usable quote in English that I can use.  : )**


	9. Bonding

**Ok, chapter nine.  More fun quotes in this chapter – they're starting to become an integral part of Tess' character.  Gotta love character development.**

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Tess stopped singing when she heard the unmistakable sound of a human body dropping gracelessly to the ground.  For a moment she simply sat where she was with her head bowed and her eyes closed, as if she were praying, but really doing nothing more than cursing all men alike for being stubborn and indescribably foolish.  She sat and listened to Marcos' cries of surprise and alarm at finding his new special friend up and more severely injured than he had remembered.

   "Señora!  The man is hurt!"

   "Yes Marcos, I know."  Carefully she stood up, needing to be able to move freely but unwilling to shake loose her small companions.  As she stood up and made her way over to Sands with one child hanging on her arm and with another grasping her leg, she felt a certain measure of surrealism.  Like she was in a dream.  _Perhaps I'll wake up and find this was a dream, find myself back at that window watching a blind man make his last stand in a deserted street under the hot Mexico sun._

  "Let me go for a moment, René," she murmured.  "I need to check on our patient."  The boy shook his head and tightened his grip around her knee.  _I've only had enough time to dry a few tears and already I'm dealing with rebellion within the ranks._  "Marcos?"  She let the older boy deal with his brother at the moment.  

   Now able to crouch down at her patient's side, she checked Sands' pulse.  It was a little quick, the exertion of walking halfway across her small house had clearly been too much of a strain on his depleted stores of strength and endurance.  _Idiot!  Is he **trying** to kill himself?_  She sighed; there was nothing she could do for him as long as he was passed out on the floor.  _And I can't get him back into bed without breaking open all his wounds because I'm not strong enough to lift him, even if Marcos helped.  Damnit!  Why do men always have to complicate things?_

   "Señora?  What do we do now?"

   "I don't know Marcos."  She looked at the boy and saw how surprised he was by this confession.  She remembered when she too had thought that adults had all the answers, but growing up had simply showed her that adults just stopped asking questions because they were ashamed that they didn't know the answers.  "I know where you and you, and René, and Alma can start though.  You can all start by calling me Tessa, and then yo can go play, or read, or take a nap, or draw a picture until I get lunch started.  And _I will decide what we're going to do with Sleeping Beauty here."_

   "Who's Sleeping Beauty?"  Alma had decided to enter the conversation.

   "Who's Sleeping Beauty?"  Tess pretended to be shock and appalled.  "Are you telling me that you don't know who Sleeping Beauty is?"  All three children nodded.  "Well, we'll have to fix that, won't we?  Come into the kitchen and I'll tell you the story while I make lunch."

The story of Sleeping Beauty had lasted halfway through lunch and when she had finished that tale, she had started telling the story of Aladdin and his magical lamp.  It was now nearly two in the afternoon and all but one of her charges were asleep.  And none of them were in the same room.  Baby Lena was asleep on the kitchen floor in a diluted patch of sunlight.  (Tess had been afraid of waking the child if she had tried to move her, so she had let Lena be.)  René was asleep in the living room, sprawled across the armchair.  Alma had disappeared some time before; Tess had found her in the spare bedroom, dried tears on her sleeping face.  Sands was still unconscious in the hallway.  Only Tess and Marcos were still awake, and by all appearances the boy was loosing the battle to keep his eyes open.

   Five minutes later the boy was asleep and Tess was left alone with her thoughts.  _Might as well do something useful as I wait for 'Giovanni' to come around.  Thoughts like the ones currently in my head need to be reflected over as I keep my hands busy.  Guess this is as good a time as any to work on my stitches._

  Gathering Sands' clothes from the window she had left them in, Tess collected needled and thread as went to sit near her patient to piece together his holey clothing even as she pieced together her plans for that night.  There was much that needed to be done, and she needed to decided what order to do it all in.

   That afternoon, after his brother had fallen asleep and his sister had disappeared, Marcos had told the short story of how he had discovered he death of his parents.  It was bad, but not as bad as Tess had feared.  While he had been walking home the night before, he had stumbled across a police barricade.  Through the milling figures of militia and city lawkeepers, he had seen the bodies of his parents.  Afraid, he had run home only to find his house under the surveillance of two men in a dark car.  This alone amazed Tessa – she doubted that she would have been in any state to notice possible dangers after seeing the slain bodies of two people she loved.  _But first I would need to love two people._

   Anyway, after seeing the men watching his apartment complex, he had been careful to sneak into the building by other (most likely less legal) means.  Reaching his apartment, he had found his three younger siblings alone and confused.  Knowing that it was probably a bad idea to stay in their home, not knowing if the men outside represented a threat or not, Marcos had huddled together his brother and sister and had managed to get them out of the building the same way he had gotten in.  The rest of the night had been spent trying to avoid the few mobs that were still out and clashing with the militia, more out of mob mentality than any real quarrel, and various sections of the city that had been seriously damaged by the fighting.  It had taking time, fortitude, and many rest stops, but Marcos had gotten what was left of his family to Tess and safety, a feat that impressed the woman.  She doubted that she would have tried something at that age.  _The earliest I tried to run away was at thirteen._

   Tess sighed for what seemed to be the thousandth time that day.  She was so sick and tired of simply living in the moment and not being able to plan farther ahead than the next few hours.  She liked having a reliable schedule, liked being able to predict how things were going to happen each day.  When was stability going to return to her small world.  _That's not the question I need to be worrying about.  The real question is, how were Marcos' parent's killed?  Was it the rioters, Marquez' army, the cartel, or some other element to this tragedy that we know nothing about?  The only way to be sure is to talk to the police, view autopsy records, talk to any witnesses – none of which I can do without drawing unwanted attention to myself.  Excluding those steps, my next course of action should be to examine the sight where they were found myself, and then to try to get a look at whoever was surveilling Marcos' apartment building, providing they're still there.   She sighed, then looked at her watch.  It couldn't have been more than three minutes since the last time she had sighed.  __And, to top that all off, I need to get groceries.  Preferably at a store where no one knows who I am.  Glancing at her sleeping patient she added another chore to her growing mental list.  _And it wouldn't be the worst idea to find out where he was staying and pick up some other clothes for him.  I can't have him wandering around the house in nothing but a pair of boxers._ _

Either he was imagining things, or the bed beneath him had gotten a lot harder in the space of time he had been asleep.  And why was he lying on his face?  These were the questions that plagued Sands' mind as he woke up from his impromptu swan dive.  It was still a shock to tell his mind to open his eyes and find that there was nothing there to open, but he was quickly growing accustomed to the shock.  He was growing practiced at shoving the horror and the panic down to where they couldn't reach him.  Each time he shoved harder and deeper, and each time it became easier to ignore the faint echoes of distress the action caused.  He wanted to scream, to rant, to rave – but all these things meant that he would be out of control, and control meant everything.  It meant the difference between the triumph of your enemies and your not so total defeat.  Sands didn't like losing.

   He lay without moving a muscle, trying to piece together where he was.  Whatever he was laying on was hard and criss-crossed with some kind of grid.  A quick twitch of his fingers showed him that he was lying on a tile floor.  _What do I remember last?  The image of a drill came to mind, but he pushed that away.  __Pain, a child screaming.  I was looking for my gun . . . then I heard that woman singing some kind of nonsense . . . I went to see what it was . . . Latin.  She was singing in Latin . . . and then . . . and then . . . .  Despite his best effort, Sands was unable to remember anything beyond that.  Disgusted with what that meant, he decided that he was still in the hallway where he must have collapsed.  __So, where's everyone else?_

   The house was almost completely silent.  He could hear rafters expanding in the heat, heard what he thought was the whimpering of child, but it was coming from another room.  Then off to his side, he heard a nearly inaudible sigh.  _Siesta._  The word popped into his mind.  He wondered if the entire house was indeed asleep.  _Wait.  Wait for more sound.  Seconds later, he heard a quiet voice reciting in a murmur, "Because I could not stop for Death/He kindly stopped for me;/The carriage held but just ourselves/And Immortality./We slowly dro–"_

   _Crap, she's closer than I expected her to be.  "Why is it that every time I wake up you're prattering on about Death?"  He really was beginning to wonder if he had been shut up with a madwoman for a keeper.  Perhaps the rest of the cartel was standing behind glass partitions laughing at him._

   "I thought I had already told you that the subject was something of a hobby for me.  In a literary context."  Tess could feel her heart racing with surprise.  It was nearly impossible to tell when this man was awake or asleep.  "Besides, there's been so much written on the subject for me to read and remember, and there hasn't exactly been an abundance of conscious people for me to talk to recently."  She stood up, her bare feet making soft slapping sounds against the tiles of the hallway floor.  "We should get you back into bed.  I would have done it sooner, but I'm afraid that I couldn't manage it without your help."

   He winced as felt her hands trying to get him to roll over.  He finally did it himself, letting out a muffled groan as he did so.  "Did that hurt a lot or just a little?"

   _What kind of question is that?  Of course it hurt.  "If I said 'hell yes,' would you be able to translate that into some kind of measurement?"_

   "I'd say that it was probably safe to give you some painkillers."

   "No.  I've been out of it for long enough."

   "I could give you enough to take the edge off and leave your mind still mostly aware of what was going on around you."  As she spoke she touched his shoulder, the feel of her skin against his a reminder that he had been wandering around in his boxers.  "Com'on, the next step is to sit up, and from there we can hopefully get you to your feet."

   Sitting up was more of a chore than it should have been.  Despite the fact that he couldn't see, somehow he knew that the darkness he now lived in got darker as the blood rushed from his head.  "Hmm . . . looks like you're going to need that other transfusion."  He heard this through the fog currently hazing his mind.

   "What do you mean, I need _another_ transfusion?"  He hated having to repeat everything this woman said, but so often she managed to lose him with her thought process, as if he were only getting half of an important telephone conversation.

   "I gave you a blood transfusion last night, after you . . . fell asleep."  _How cute.  She's trying to be tactful._

   "What kind of half-assed plan was that?  What makes you think I want some untested, disease carrying, peon blood running through my body?"

   "It may surprise you to know that there are medical protocols followed for the donation of blood even in Mexico, señor.  It may surprise you even more to find out that I didn't drag some disease ridden transient off the street to draw blood from.  I happen to be able to guarantee that the blood you got last night was not only chosen because it wouldn't interact badly with your blood-type, but because I could personally guarantee that it was free of any microbes that would make you unduly sick."  She took his arm in a grip that was only slightly less gentle than it had been earlier.  "Upsy-daisy."

   "You're out of your fucking mind, lady," Sands informed her as he struggled to his feet.  Once again he found his arm wrapped around a surprisingly strong pair of shoulders.

   "I am but mad north-northwest."  This quote seemed to quiet him for a bit, but that could have been the walk back to her bedroom.

Tess' side was aching by the time she managed to get 'Giovanni' back into bed.  As she watched him settle in, she murmured, "You know, I don't think 'Giovanni' suits you all that well.  I mean, yeah, you're cute enough to pull it off, but that's the problem."  She sighed, "You're more than cute.  You're really more dangerous than cute."  Suddenly her eyes widened.  "Did I just say that aloud?"

   "Oh yeah."  Sands could almost feel her blushing.  It amused him to no end, or at least he told himself it did.  It was better than trying to bring up a nonchalant way of asking if insanity ran in her family.  "What would you name me then?  Taking account for my apparently indescribable bad boy appeal, of course."

   Crap.  There was no way to get out of it.  Tess really needed to learn when to keep her mouth shut.  Why couldn't she learn that every time she though he wasn't paying her any attention, he was.  _Yeah, talking out loud is a bad habit when there's other people around, Teresa.  You should try to stop doing that._

**_   Oh yes, otherwise they may think you're insane or something._**

****"Niña?"

   "Oh, sorry."  _Please let me off the hook._  "Umm, are you sure you want to hear more of my rather senseless ramblings?  I really don't think that they're all that entertaining –"

   "No, by all means.  What could be more entertaining for a blind man than listening to such a revealing voice?"

   _That was a double edged compliment if ever I heard one.  "Well, I was thinking that 'Tirado' might suit you better.  It means – "_

   "Marksman or sharp-shooter.  I know.  I speak the language, if that's what you want to call what most of the people around here speak."

   "Well, I wouldn't say that most Americans speak English."

   "And what do you know of Americans, niña?  For that matter, where did you get the blood you were ever so merrily pumping into me?"

   _He's fishing for information.  I think.  It could just be that he's bored, or trying to find something to keep his mind off the pain.  Would it really be all that bad to humor him?  I mean, as long as he doesn't find out who my closest relatives are . . . were.  "Umm . . . the blood.  Right.  Well, I got it from an American who happened to be in the area."_

   "Right, another American just happened to be walking by at just the right time to let you poke them full of holes and bleed off a pint of blood."  _Looks like you are a quart dry, my friend._  There were times that being a smart ass really came back to bite him in the butt.

   "No . . . ."  Either she could clam up or she could stop being wishy-washy, but she needed to decide and stop talking like a mindless freak of nature.  "_I gave you the blood."_

   "Niña, for someone who claims to tell the truth, you sure take a lot of detours getting there.  If you gave me the blood, then how did you get it from an American?"

   "America may not recognize people who have dual citizenship, but Mexico does.  And so does Canada for that matter.  I'm an American citizen because my mother was an American.  My father is . . . _was . . . Mexican."_

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**Ok – quotes for this chapter are from Emily Dickinson and Shakespeare's Hamlet.  Fun stuff.  More quotes, more revelations (possibly), and more Sands and Tess coming up in the next chapter which is tentatively entitled, "In Which Tess Does Something Stupid" – but I can come up with a better title than that.**


	10. All the King's Horses

**Author's Note: sorry this one took so long.  Things kept developing to the point where I ended up writing an entire chapter I hadn't meant to write.  That's the problem with borrowing someone else's characters – the really don't want to listen to you.  _(You know I'll win in the end Sands!  Stop being so difficult!)_  Enjoy, and next chapter we'll see Tess get into a bit of trouble – or at least a different kind than she's in now.**

**BTW – this (//\\) is Spanish speaking during the telephone conversation and this ("") is English.  You'll see what I mean.  At other times I think I say which language the people are speaking.  Sorry of that got confusing.**

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_Well, that would certainly explain why she speaks English so well._  While Sands was surprised by this news, he wasn't shocked.  When she spoke English, some of her words had a distinct American accent to them instead of a Spanish one, or the more cultured European one that would have been taught by tutors in upper-class Spanish homes.  "So what, you spent the school year in America and spent the summer in Mexico?  Or was it the other way around?  Or did your parents simply throw you back and forth without warning?"

   The last situation would have been the most accurate had her father not felt the need to keep all those around him under this thumb.  He certainly hadn't cared for her, and had he not found a need, a role for her to fill, she certainly would have been thrown out.  But that was none of this man's concern, and he wouldn't feel sympathy for her if he did know.  "I didn't go to America until I was seventeen, and that was only to go to university.  Before that I lived in my father's house."  _Not his home – home implies family.  Family implies some sort of caring for one another.  I lived in a wolf pack, and I was the one they chose to pick on.  A virtual slave, being raised to be a subservient nonentity to my sister.  "But anyway, my shots are all up-to-date.  The ones required by the US government and the Mexican government.  And that's all you should need to know."_

   Sands heard the sound of a stool or chair being dragged across the floor to a position near the bed.  He listened as his hostess took a seat, a knee or some odd joint popping.  "Now, if I have laid any and all objections to rest, can I take a look at those stitches I spent so much time putting in last night?"

   "Smart ass."

   "Takes one to know one."  There was a clink of metal against a hard surface.  "I'm going to cut the gauze off, so don't get jumpy on me.  These may be medical scissors, but there's still the risk that I could cut you, and I don't want to run it.  I think we've both dealt with enough blood for the time being."

   Sands tried to keep still as Tess sliced away the bandages, but the feeling of cool metal against his skin made him tense.  It was too much like a medical procedure for him to be able to actually relax.  The blasted woman noticed and actually tried to comfort him.  "It's okay."

   That irritated him beyond explanation for some reason.  He wasn't a gun-shy dog that needed a steadying hand to keep from bolting or a high stung thoroughbred that needed a firm hand on the rein.  "Of course everything is 'okay.'  I have three extra holes in my appendages and a madman left two gaping vacancies in my face.  Yeah, everything is just peachy-keen.  And if you believe that, then you can kiss my scrawny American a– "

   -_Ring-  The sound of a ringing cell phone cut him off before he could get suitably crude.  Both adults froze – Tess wondering whose phone it was and where it was, and Sands silently cursing Ramirez for throwing the phone back to him.  _Damn interagency cooperation.__

_-Ring-_  Tess wondered if she had managed to overlook a phone in 'Giovanni's' belongings.  Her cell phone never played a basic ringtone.  She had too much time on her hands at times to allow that.  She froze when she saw her patient do the same.  Either he was still incredibly jumpy (which was entirely understandable), or he had some idea of who was calling.

   She got up.  "Don't answer that."  Tess ignored the directive, much to the irritation of the man on the bed she was sure.

   _-Ring-  _Where is it?_  She was sure it was in the room, but she couldn't seem to locate it.  Not that the room was messy – Tess kept things almost compulsively neat.  Mess gave madness a foothold.  But while she could hear the ringing of the phone, she couldn't seem to see it anywhere.  -_Ring-_  Under the bed.  It must have gotten caught in the American's many belts and holsters, and when she had put them on the floor the night before, it must have slid under it.  __-Ring-  Tess got down on her hands and knees.  _

   "What are you doing?"  She would have responded with a rather snarky comeback if she hadn't felt some sympathy for this man who had been on the wrong end of the Barillos' wrath.

   "I'm getting the phone."  She stuck her head under the bed.  There it was, sitting like a legless scarab beetle halfway between her and the wall.  Lowering herself to her belly, she reached out and grabbed it.

   _-Ring-  The display was lit up, a number flashing slowly on it.  It was a stateside number, she knew that much, but she didn't recognize the area code.  Vaguely she thought that it was from somewhere on the East coast.  Not that that mattered.  What mattered was that someone was clearly trying to get a hold of her patient, and he (though he might deny it) was distinctly nervous about that._

   _-Ri-  She pressed the receive button.  Speaking in Spanish she said in a voice that was a cross between cautiousness and fear, //Hello?\\_

   "Who is this?" demanded a man's voice.  "Who's using this line?  This is an official line, and anyone who uses it without permission will be subjected to the penalties laid out by the United States government.  Where's the agent this phone belongs to?"

   //I don't speak English, sir.  I am sorry.  Please repeat that in Spanish?\\  Tess heard cursing coming from the man.  He clearly didn't speak Spanish, and it sounded as if he didn't have anyone nearby who did.

   _Idiot.  In a nearly hysterical voice she started spouting nonsense, rambling drivel as fast as she could, trying to sound as if she were afraid for her life.  Or paranoid.  Or mad.  //Did you know that the pink crayons gallop on icebergs in front of fancy garages?  And the raining sun falls down on arrogant know-it-alls who can't speak the native language, which is why I can get away with saying nonsense like this.  Only seven different types of fool would wear their pants backwards and speak in a foreign tongue to stupid Mexican señoritas.  Or perhaps people who get off from that sort of thing, but that is just sick in the same way that an anteater picking it's nose is sick.\\_

   "Hold on, señora.  Calm down."  There was a muffled conversation before a new voice came on asking, //Señora, what's wrong?  Where are you?  We'd like to send someone to help you.\\  _Oh crap.  I have to start making sense._  //Señora?  Are you still there?\\

   Thinking fast, Tess let out a small despairing shriek.  //The sun!  The sun!  It burns my face!  And the man!  Black Death with no eyes!  Where are they?  My husband, my children?!  Dead.  Lost.  Taken from me.\\  She stopped for dramatic effect.  //What?  No!\\  The person on the phone was trying to get her to talk the him, but she ignored that.  //No!  Leave me alone!  _NO!\\  She let out a strangled sound, then cut it short.  Crawling out from under the bed, she placed the phone on the wooden floor and grabbed the stool she had been sitting on.  Turning it so the seat would contact solidly with the floor, she brought it down on the phone, smashing it and terminating the connection.  With a sense of satisfaction she had not had in some time, she raised the stool so she could survey the damage._

   "Amusing ourselves were we?"  Turning to look at the room's other occupant who she had momentarily forgot, she blushed, embarrassed to be caught letting some of her madness out.  "You almost had me believing you were crazy.  Perhaps you should have gone into radio theater instead of medicine.  You certainly aren't doing much to make me feel any better."

   "It's not my fault that real life insists upon intruding on my schedule."  Picking up the stool, she brushed electronic bits and plastic crumbs off the seat .  Bringing it back over to the bed, she set it on the floor and sat back down, acting as if nothing had just happened.  "Besides, you have to admit that it was fairly entertaining, more so than me reciting poems about death."  Picking up the scissors again, she resumed taking the wrappings off the flesh she had labored over the previous night.

Sands was mentally kicking himself for not getting rid of that phone when he had had the chance.  In a sudden reversal of his luck in finding dependable people, this woman seemed to genuinely want to help him.  But it was a slim piece of luck at best, and who knew how long it would last.  _I thought that Cucuy, Ajedrez, and 'El' were dependable too.  Cucuy left me for more money, Ajedrez was lying the whole time, and the guitar player . . . I really don't know if he managed to complete his mission or not.  Probably not.  Probably got all loyal and angst ridden at the last moment.  He didn't know though.  He knew nothing.  Lack of information led to failure, and failure was not tolerated._

   **_And this girl who says she wants to help you.  What about her?  She seems to be rather mysterious.  What has she told you beyond her name?  If that's even her name.  Nothing, no news of what happened yesterday, no news of what happened today, nothing.  Sure you may get a tidbit here and there; her name is 'Tess,' she's a bastard with American citizenship, she attended medical school in America, and she seems to know what drugs the cartel prefers to use.  How does she know that?  It doesn't seem like information they would randomly or freely hand out._  A sudden flare of pain stopped the voice in his head.  Pity – he was starting to enjoy its chatter.**

   "I thought you were checking up on the state of your blue ribbon stitches, not tearing them out with your bare hands.  I've had enough experience to know that the customary procedure is to use scissors, not pliers."

   _So much for being gentle, she thought.  "This one has broken open again, señor.  Two of the three stitches have come loose and the third is about to.  The dried blood from the wound is making the fibers of the bandages stick unnecessarily.  I'm doing my best to be careful, but the truth is, I wouldn't need to be careful had you resisted the urge to go exploring."_

   "What can I say?  The sound of your siren-like singing drove me to measures that I normally wouldn't have taken.  Surely no man chooses to commit suicide in such an inane and painfully drawn out manner unless he's otherwise compelled to."

   The mockery she heard in his voice pricked her temper.  Under normal circumstances she could have easily ignored him, but at the moment she was faced with caring for four children and a tetchy stranger, she had gotten little sleep the previous night _and_ she was tired from donating a pint of blood to the man before her who was doing his best to imitate a sieve, plus her dopamine suppressant was fraying her control over even simple emotions.  She had sat and listened to many insults in her lifetime that had been more hurtful, but this one was the card that caused her frail emotional balance to collapse.  Under her breath she muttered, "At least Odysseus was able to blind his monster instead of things happening the other way around."

   _Bitch.  "You know, they say that when a person loses one sense their others become more honed to make up for it."  The hands on his thigh froze.  "In other words, niña, I heard that."_

   A wave of guilt wiped out Tess' anger.  This man had been through a lot in a short amount of time.  She should understand that and keep her temper in check, or at least her tongue.  He had every right to be angry and bitter – just as she was the last rightful target for those feelings.  "I'm sorry.  That was cruel."

   Sands was going to make some kind of snide remark when he was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.  "Señora Tessa?"

Tess gave a short prayer of thanks as she turned from her patient to the boy standing uncertainly in the doorway to the bedroom.  She pretended not to notice as Sands turned his face in the same direction, although her voice was screaming at her for being an unfeeling bitch, a worthless doctor, and a bastard with the I.Q. of 30 or so for not explaining what had happened since the man had awoken that morning.  _Shut up.  "Yes, René?"  Focusing on the boy and what he had to say would drown out the voice.  "What is it?"_

   "Lena woke up.  I think she's hungry."

   "Thank you, René.  I'll make sure that I go check on her as soon as I'm done here."

   "I don't think you need to do that."  Tess was about to ask what he meant, when she saw a small head capped in flyaway dark hair appear around the corner.  Little Lena seemed to have mastered the art of crawling sometime in her short life.

   "Well.  She's determined, isn't she?"  The boy nodded.  Not sure of what else she needed to say, Tess turned back to her patient, slowly pulling more of the bandage off.

   "Who's that?"  Looking over her shoulder she saw that the young boy had gathered the courage in walk farther into the room, braving the company of a strange man.  "Why are his eyes covered?"

   It was an innocent question, one asked simply to gain information, not to cause hurt or to show horrified fascination.  But when she saw her patient freeze, Tess was afraid of how he would react to the boy, of how he would answer that question.  He'd undoubtedly answer in English, but anger and aggression could still be transmitted, and that was something the boy didn't deserve.  She did, but not a child who had unwittingly stumbled into the midst of this mess.  Before the man could say anything she said, "This is –"

   "Giovanni Tirado."  Tess looked at him in surprise.  She hadn't thought he had taken her seriously when she had mentioned the name.  **_He probably wasn't._**

   "Why do you have bandages around your eyes, Señor Tirado?"

   "They got hurt."  The answer was short and curt, as if admitting such a thing out loud pained him.  And since it was in English the boy didn't understand it.

   "What did he say, señora?"  When Sands didn't offer to do the job himself, Tess translated slowly, hoping she wasn't starting something that she would come to regret.  Once he understood Sands' answer, René asked another question.  "Did you come to señora Tessa so she could help you too?  My brother Marcos said that's why we had to come here, so she could help us."

   "No, I came here because I was looking for my own personal angel of death."

   Tess was not going to translate that, so she merely said, "Yes, I brought señor Tirado here so I could help him.  Why don't you go see if you can find a banana for me so I can give Lena something to eat?"  The girl was currently trying to put on one of Tessa's shirts, but was having a hard time finding a hole to put her head in.

   The boy left on his mission, and Tess turned back to hers.  As she placed a hand on Sands' wounded leg again, she nearly jumped in surprise as the man grabbed her wrist in a tight grip.  Slowly he started to increase the pressure until she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.  "What are you doing, señor?  Are you loco?  Let me go."  All she got for her pains was a sharp twist to her wrist.  If he didn't stop soon he was going to break something.

   In a low conversational tone he said, "Let's get one thing straight, niña.  I want some answers from you.  Mainly to the questions of what the hell happened yesterday, just how many people are in this house, and how did they come to be here, and just what are you trying to do?"  Bringing his free hand up to his chin he tapped it, as if trying to remember something.  "Oh yes, and how the hell do you know so much about the cartel and Barillo and his pet medic?  And how is it that you just happened to be in this miserable excuse for civilization just in time for yesterday's slaughter?"

   "Señor, please, if you'll just let me finish–" the hand imprisoning her wrist tightened yet again, and this time Tess swore she could feel the bones of her arm bending in towards each other.  "Please, I will answer your questions, but I need to replace those stitches if we're to keep as much of your blood in you as possible."

   "You're stalling for time and I am not a patient man."

   "No, I'm not.  I swear."  The pressure rose another fraction; Sands' arm was trembling from the prolonged force he was exerting.  Tess could practically hear her bones creak – any moment they were going to snap.  "Please, you're hurting me."


	11. All the King's Men

**Sorry this took so long to get out!  But I had to do some research, find some quotes, and come up with a way to write this chapter without sounding mind-numbingly dull.  Next chapter will be up ever so much quicker, an will be mostly a Sands POV of the time that Tessa was gone.  Should be fun.  : )**

**If you're actually reading this, I'd love to hear from you if I haven't yet.  It's sad, but feedback really does fuel the imagination.**

**Author Thanks at the end.**

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As soon as the words had left her mouth, Tess felt a deep loathing for herself.  It had been years since she had begged anyone for anything.  And even more years since she had been stupid enough to plead for someone to stop what was obviously meant to be a lesson.  How had she managed to forget that begging was weakness, and weakness was punished?  But her body had forgotten the sting of those long ago punishments, even if her mind had not, and it was her mind screaming now for her to run as far and fast as she could.  Her inner voice was screaming that if she didn't want to really get it, she had better stay where she was.  Her body made a compromise between the two and she found herself pulling as far away from the man on the bed as she could – which wasn't far since he was still holding her arm in a death grip.

   **_Let me take over – I'll keep us safe._  Tess knew what that safety was; it was being locked in the prison of her mind.  True, she wouldn't feel too much pain, but she would lose all control over herself, and there were too many people depending on her right now for her to give in.  _Maybe when this is all over.  Then we can find a quiet corner and . . . . _She realized that she was talking to another person.  _Or perhaps I can just make sure I take my medications tonight.  I think I may have forgotten yesterday, what with all the excitement.  That was incredibly stupid.  _No wonder her dopamine suppressant was doing a poor job.  "I'll answer your questions, senor, but first you have to let me go.  I won't be much use to anyone if I can't use both hands."**

Sands heard the suppressed panic in his captive's voice, but unfortunately he was in no shape to enjoy it.  Perhaps if the very thought of a smile didn't send shivers of pain down his spine . . . or if he had any belief that he had any control over this situation at all.  But he wasn't able to delude himself into thinking that.  

   **_Good, because an illusion of control is what got you into this in the first place._  The voice was quiet for a moment before asking, **_Are you planning on holding her hand all day?  Because I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I really don't think you're going to be able to keep that grip up for much longer, my friend._**  It was true; his arm was already starting to shake with fatigue.  **

   _Damn blood loss.  "Give me a gun."_

   "What?"  The man _had _to be loco if he thought she was going to give him a weapon with which he could threaten her.  She did have more sense than that – perhaps not much more at the time, but some.  Enough to learn from past mistakes.

   Sands heard this opinion in her voice, and this time he very nearly did smile no matter how much it would have hurt.  "Let me rephrase that," he said while tightening his grip and eliciting a gasp of pain from the woman.  "Either you can give me a gun, or I can break your wrist.  It's up to you."

   Tess didn't doubt that he would do as he threatened.  _That's why I don't want to give him a weapon.  If he doesn't like what I have to say, what's to keep him from shooting me?_

_   **Just make sure that you don't say anything that will upset him, nitwit.  **_

_   And if I screw up we both die . . . or at least I'll die, and that means you'll be dead too._

_   **Perhaps, or perhaps I'll find someone else to drive mad.**_

****"You're going to need to sit up, señor.  I can't reach any of the guns in the house from here."  Slowly leaning down as her "patient" leaned forward, she grasped the handle of one of the semi-automatics on the floor.  Sitting back up, she held it out.  "Here, take it." The man took it in his left hand, not releasing his grip on her arm until he was satisfied that she had given him one of his own guns.  When he did release her, her hand tingled painfully as blood rushed back into it.  She grimaced, thankful that it would go unnoticed.

   "Señora Tessa, I found a banana for Lena.  What do you want me to do with it?"

   _Lena!  I forgot about the baby!  Looking around the room, she saw that Lena had found a pen and was scribbling harmlessly on the walls.  Briefly she wondered if she should have René take the child and leave the room, but decided against it.  It seemed too much like admitting fear . . . or admitting that she believed that he was capable of the cold-blooded murder of children.  She refused to believe that of him.  "Bring it here.  I'll feed her right after I finish with señor Tirado."_

   As the boy brought her the piece of fruit she thought, _It's a good thing that these children are so obedient, otherwise I'd be in big trouble right about now.  I don't think I could handle having to keep order among them when I can barely keep it within myself at the moment._  "Thank you, René.  Now will you go play in the living room or something until I come out to start dinner?"  The boy looked longingly at the armchair in the far corner of the room – he clearly wanted to stay.

   "What's wrong, niña?  Afraid I'm going to take a shot at your young charges?"  Sands still spoke in English, taunting her fears.

   "No."  The answer was sulky, her tone indication that this was exactly what she was thinking, and she knew it.  **_Nice job, Tessa._**  She couldn't tell René to leave without risking the man's ridicule and making it appear as if she thought him a monster, but she didn't feel comfortable with letting the boy stay in the room either.  **_Too bad you're backed into a corner and the three of us know it._**

   _Bite me.  "Fine.  You may stay if you want, but I need you stay out from underfoot, and you have to promise to leave if I ask you to, okay?"_

   "Sí, señora."  She watched as he ran from the room and came back with several picture books.  He settled into the armchair and the quiet sound of turning pages filled the silence of the afternoon air.

   "I'm still waiting, niña.  And while I can entertain myself for some time with all sorts of thoughts that I doubt you'd fully appreciate, I would find it ever so much more amusing if you'd open your mouth and share some answers to my earlier questions."

   This sudden monologue started Tess back to reality.  "Do you want any Novocain salve?"

   "What?  What the hell are you talking about?  Did you just hear a word I just said?"

   "Yes, I heard you.  I just thought it might be distracting to feel my needle as I stitch you up again," she answered innocently.  She was stalling for more time and they both knew it.  "Or would you rather do without?"  She doubted it.  He had to be in enough pain as it was without having this added to it.

   "Fuck you."

   "I'll take that as a yes."  She reached for the cream she had left out on her nightstand.  "This is going to be a bit cold."  As she applied the balm, she started talking, unable to put things off for any longer.  "Yesterday . . ." she sighed.   Yesterday was a blood bath.  I think you're probably more aware of the causes behind that than I am."

   "Why do you say that?"  Sands' voice was tense as he wondered what exactly she had learned from the earlier conversation she had had on the phone.  He really hoped that she hadn't discovered too much . . . it would be difficult for him to find another doctor at the moment.

   "It's not every day that a person sees a blind and severely injured gunfighter take out several members of a rather powerful cartel.  It's not every day that one sees a severely injured blind gunfighter.  It wasn't hard to guess that somehow you strayed onto Barillo's bad side, and knowledge is often the cause for such drastic retribution."  She shrugged, sitting back until the Novocain could take effect.  "I don't know who you are; mercenary, a cartel member who played the odds and lost, do-gooder, or government.  It's enough that you were seemingly fighting against the cartel."

   "And how would you recognize this job as their work . . . or more specifically, how did you become acquainted with Dr. Guevera's handiwork?"

   This is where she stepped into dangerous waters.  If she wasn't careful, she might very well get herself shot.  Haltingly she said, "Remember how I told you that Barillo ruined my life?"  She waited for him to acknowledge this reminder.  "The cartel took an interest in me at a young age, and when they take an interest in you, you don't refuse without severe consequences.  I was brought up among the ranks of henchmen to be a doctor . . . Ajedrez' personal medical slave if you will.  After receiving my degree from Harvard medical, I was summoned back home.  I was told to do an internship with the good doctor – I didn't argue.  I thought that the man could surely teach me a thing or two."  She laughed bitterly.  "And he did – it just cost me whatever innocence I had left by that time.  I left soon after, always managing to stay one step ahead of Barillo, thanks to a man who felt less loyalty to Barillo than he did to the memory of a slaughtered brother.  He didn't like me – hated the sight of me, in fact – but he hated Barillo more.  And incidentally, that's how I managed to show up here in time for yesterday's slaughter."  The memory of some of the things she had learned, saw, and even done while under the thumb of Barillo and Guevera made her skin crawl and her stomach turn.  **_But you're repaying that.  Slowly, but repaying it nonetheless.  And you'll soon be done.  Just patch this man up._**

_   Just patch him up?  Is that all I can do for him?_

_   **He has no eyes.  You're a doctor, not God.  Just be content with doing all you can.**_

****"You know, dragging any information out of you is like pulling teeth."  

   Startled, Tess looked up from the needle she had started threading to distract herself.  "It's difficult to talk when you're not sure if you're next words will earn you a bullet between the eyes.  At one point in my life I was better able to deal with the feeling, but sadly, it's been a few years since I've had to practice.  Forgive me for wishing to prolong my life."  Sands flipped her off, but he did lower the weapon to his side.  Ignoring the man's silent statement, Tess reached out and laid a gentle finger on the area surrounding the open bullet wound.  "Can you feel that?"

   "Feel what?" Sands asked irritably.

   "Feel me touching you.  I wanted to make sure you were numb before I stitched you up again."  Concentrating on her task, she pierced his skin, wincing as she did.  This was her least favorite part of medicine – sewing people together like they were ragdolls.  "There were other things you wanted to know?  I can't tell you what has happened today, what news of the army and the cartel there is to be had.  I've been a bit busy to have had time to listen to the radio.  If you wish, I can turn it on for you once I'm done."  Tying off the first stitch, she checked again on Lena and René.  Lena had taken to scribbling in one of the old, battered picture books that Tess had in her possession.  No matter, she would be leaving soon anyway.  **_And the children?  What of them?___**

_   Foster home?  Or an orphanage?_

_   **Right, let's leave them in the caring hands of the Mexican welfare system.  Why don't you just toss them out on the street?**_

"I'll think of something.  Just give me time."  

   "Time for what?"

   _Crap.  "I'm sorry.  I was just thinking out loud."_

   "I noticed."  He paused before relaxing marginally.  "I sure hope you're pretty, because I'm not so sure the 'intellectual' gig is working out for you."  

   "If you don't have your health, you don't have anything," Tess murmured under her breath.

   "What the hell are you talking about now?"

   "Sorry.  Quote from 'The Princess Bride.'  Sewing people up has never been my favorite thing to do."

   **_She's as crazy as you are.  Or perhaps they're as crazy as we are._  The sounds of childish whimpers reached his ears.  "How many people are here, niña?  I got the impression that you were here alone.  What changed?"**

   "Can you hold that thought?  Need to go see what's wrong."

   _I don't think so.  Sands raised his weapon.  "Answers first, señorita.  Then you can go running about."_

   "May I ask you something?"  There was an odd note in Tess' voice.  She hated hearing a child in distress left uncomforted.  It reminded her too much of her own childhood.  "Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?  Do us a favor.  I know it's difficult for you, but please stay here. . . ."

   "And what would that quote be from?"

   "A movie.  Please, she's just a child, one that's frightened and alone."  _Just like you must be feeling.  At least the child isn't too proud to ask for comfort.  "Truthfully, I will come back and finish answering your questions.  I just want to run across the hall."_

   "Oh god, will you stop groveling?  I'm not going to blow your head off."  He was pissed to find it was true.  Pissed that he was in a foreign country with no one to trust but a woman he knew nothing about, other than she had some knowledge of a wide variety of subjects and a love of quoting literature.  As he heard her footsteps migrate across the room, the voice in his head observed, **_Something like the mad leading the blind, isn't it?_**

_   Do you have any better ideas?_

   **_I have no problem using her in the same way you used the kid.  Just don't go soft on me, Shel-don._**

****_What makes you think I'm going soft?  If the pain in his head didn't stop soon, he'd find himself begging for painkillers without a second thought.  Pain should never be allowed to get so bad that it warped reality._

   **_Well, you told to kid to run before you initiated that shoot out with the two cartel flunkies, and then actually _waited_ to make sure he listened to you.  You haven't told this woman off; just made vague threats about what _might_ happen if she doesn't do what you want, and lastly, you're listening to me.  And talking back, I might add._**

   Damn, he hated it when he was right.

The rest of the afternoon had passed uneventfully.  She had employed Marcos in keeping the three younger children busy while she finished talking with Sands.  She told him that she was looking after Marcos and his younger siblings at the moment, though she neglected to say why, knowing that Marcos would tell the man when he was ready.  She wasn't sure how the man would react, or if he'd find any empathy within himself to comfort the boy, but she prayed that somehow he would be able to help the boy.  Sure, she could comfort, but Marcos was reaching the age where he was going to start relying less on the comfort of women and moreon the models set for him by men.  And she had seen in his eyes and heard in his voice how much he felt for the other man.  Respect, compassion, belief, and a smidgen of reverence.  Tessa wasn't sure if the man was a safe person to hang such hopes on, but it was all she had, and other matters concerned her more at the moment.

   The only tense part of the afternoon had come when Tess had mentioned her planned outing that evening to run a few errands.  "I need more food if I'm to keep six people fed, and Lena is definitely going to need some more diapers."

   "And you are telling me this why?"

   "Because I wanted to let you know that I'm going to be out of the house for an unspecified amount of time leaving you with four children, and I was wondering if you wanted me to a) pick something up for you while I'm out, b) run by where ever it was you were staying to get you a change of clothes, or c) simply put you under before I leave and tell the kids to stay out of here."

   "What, you're a multiple choice test now?"  Silence.  She wasn't going to fall for the bait.  How boring.  "Get me a pack of cigarettes."

   "No clothing?  Surely you must have more than those black ones I patched up earlier.  Something easier to get on over all those lovely stitches of yours?"

   "You want to know where I was staying."  It was a statement, one that cast doubts on her level of intelligence.  If he thought that was stupid, she had better keep her other plans for the night to herself.  "Don't be an idiot.  You have no idea whether or not someone is watching my place.  It would be tantamount to suicide.  I'm what you would call _persona non grata around here.  What makes you think you would possibly . . . ."  While Sands had pulled some risky – even what might be called "foolhardy" –stunts in his day (heck, he'd done so yesterday), he couldn't comprehend what this woman was thinking.  If she truly had a high level of experience with the cartel, she should know better.  "No.  It's too dangerous."_

   "Frankly, I'm touched –"

   "You're touched in the head.  Don't get me mistaken – I don't want you caught by anyone.  One good torture session and they'll know where I am."

   _Personal gain.  Should have seen that one coming.  "You're not getting those jeans over those injuries.  If you think they hurt now, just wait until they're encased in a denim prison."_

   "Fine.  Buy me what ever you think –"

   "Which are you trying to hide from; the cartel or former employers?"

   _What the h–  That had hit far too close to home.  "What did you learn from your little telephone conversation, niña?"_

   "Nothing, other than the phone in your possession had a government line.  U.S. government.  And the people at the other end weren't too happy I was on it.  That's why I was asking for more information.  I can handle the cartel.  Right now they're leaderless.  I need to know if there's anyone else looking for you though.  How else can I keep everyone currently under my roof safe?"

   "Just because I'm under your roof doesn't mean that I'm your responsibility.  You have nothing that ties you to me.  If you're worried, just shove me out the door.  I of all people wouldn't blame you for looking out for number one."

   **_Don't listen, Tessa.  We both know you carry more responsibility for this than you care to admit.  Your family, your fault.  "The sins of the fathers  will carry down unto the third and forth generation . . . ."  "With great power comes great responsibility."  Your father ignored that – don't you make that same mistake._**

   Wistfully she sighed.  "One is the loneliest number."  Shaking her head she continued, "No, you are my responsibility, but if you don't want to tell me, fine.  I'll find something for you to wear somewhere."

   Satisfied that she was going to let the matter drop, Sands asked, "You said something about a radio?"

It wasn't as easy to sneak out of the house as Tess had expected it to be.  First she had to wait until the children were asleep, or at least close enough to it that they wouldn't seek her out.  Then, she had to check on Sands.  That had been worrisome.  The man was sporting the beginnings of a fever.  She dosed him with aspirin and hoped that would hold things off until she was able to look into what might be causing it.  She sincerely hoped that it wasn't infection.

   "Here, take this."  She had given the man another gun.  "I don't anticipate being gone for more than two or three hours.  I'm going to have to drive across town and find a store that's open late.  All the shops in this area know me by sight and would know that I don't usually buy enough food for six or purchase many diapers.  I'd rather avoid as much suspicion as possible until I've figured out what I'm going to do with the kids.  They at least deserve a happy ending out of all this."  There had been a minimum of argument from the man, which had worried Tess more than the fever.  "Are you sure you don't want a stronger painkiller?"  Surely he was running low on obstinacy or whatever it was that was keeping him from caving to the pain.  She understood that he didn't want to lose consciousness, to be vulnerable, to be locked in his dreams without escape, but he shouldn't needlessly suffer either.

   But he had refused on the grounds that if he became too doped up on meds, he'd likely end up shooting someone accidentally.  It was a good argument to use when there were small children in the house, so she had let him be.

   Now, an hour after she had left the house, she was sitting in her car two blocks from where Marcos' parents had been found.  She had bought her groceries with a minimum of effort, thankful that she always kept a supply of cash on her for times when it was unwise to leave an identity.  _I suppose I could have a fake ID made.  I do know people who could do that for me.  It's just that I'm already struggling to maintain my own identity.  I don't need a third._  

   She looked out her windshield.  There were a surprising amount of people out for a city that just last night had been rocked by riots and an attempted coup d'etat.  **_Life goes on . . . for some people.  Others just watch and smile and wait like wallflowers at a high school dance.  Have you ever danced Tessa?_**

_   Everyday, on the edge of sanity.  That's enough for me.  Life is for the sane, existence is for the rest of us._  

   Getting out of her car, she walked down the block to the corner.  All evidence of blood had been washed from the sidewalk and brick of the surrounding buildings.  There were no bullets lying around.  _Of course not.  Why make this easy?  She glanced around.  Three meters away there was an entrance to an alleyway.  __I've come this far.  It'd be a pity to go home now.  Making sure that her small handgun was easily accessible in her pocket, she walked to the alley, checking it thoroughly before chancing to go inside.  _

   For this part of town she was pleasantly surprised.  There were no piles of garbage, no trashcans to supply cover for anyone who might wish to lurk.  There weren't even any stray animals.  _Here goes nothing._  Pulling out the penlight that was attached to her keychain, Tess took a few steps into the alley, cautiously looking around her as she did.  She did not want to be trapped here.  Tess swiveled her beam side to side, waiting to catch sight of the dim light reflecting off a spare shell casing.  _There, and there . . . there._  Quickly she gathered her evidence, holding the casings to five bullets in her hand.  She didn't stand around to examine them here; she wasn't that foolish.  Instead she walked back to her car and drove to her second-to-last destination of the night.

Going to the apartment where Marcos' family had lived had been useless.  She had sat in her car for an hour waiting for someone **–** _anyone_ **– **to show up.  No one had.  Whoever had waited for the boy the night before had apparently given up.  _Then it was probably cartel.  They have enough on their hands right now, bigger things to worry about than a hapless boy that played tour guide to a blind man.  Things like forming factions to choose a new leader.  After that, then there might be danger, to Marcos and 'Tirado.'  The bloody head of someone who had messed in cartel business would be a good trophy for a new leader.  A good way to gather support.  It wouldn't matter if that person were affiliated with the cartel or not – just that they opposed them._

_   **By that line of logic, your own head is in danger.**_

****_Are you just now figuring that out?  Why do you think I've been so careful to remain a step ahead of Barillo?  Because I like the exercise?  No, it's because I happen to be rather attached to my head, even if it is often too crowded.  But at least you have the decency to stay inside my head, rather than outside ringing in my ears._

_   **Don't press your luck.  We both know that could change in a moment.  We both know that's what I'm hoping for.**_

****_Don't hold your breath._

_   **I'm not.  Look, are we going to sit out here all night, or are we going to go into the man's room sometime and fetch him some clothes?**_  Thanks to her careful wording of her concession, she had never actually said that she wouldn't go to her patient's place of temporary housing.  She wouldn't have if she hadn't discovered the worn matchbook in one of his pockets.  After that she had known exactly what hotel he was staying in, a piece of crap place that was more used to renting by the hour than by the night.  But she knew the owner, had managed to patch his kid up after the boy had decided to stop dealing for Barillo.  She figured he could let her into the right room and keep his mouth shut about it.

   Her car was the only one in the parking lot, and in dark jeans and her denim jacket, she wouldn't look too out of place in the setting.  True, if she had dressed like a hooker, she would had blended in better, but she did have some standards, and dressing as if vinyl was a natural byproduct of her body was crossing the line.  Shifting the baseball cap on her head so it would better shade her face, she once again got out of her car.

   The door to the "lobby" let out a brassy and despondent 'ding' when she opened it.  Luck was with her; there were no streetwalkers here with business.  Walking up to the counter with its bulletproof glass shield, she called, "Nicholas Garcia, you have business!"  From the back room came a balding man wearing coke-bottle glasses and a stained t-shirt.  "Hóla, señor.  I need some information, and I'm willing to pay to get it."

   Fine minutes later she was standing outside a motel door, trying to get the key to turn in the knob.  It was a procedure that required tact and patience, and she was running out of both.  Something was making warning shivers run up and down her spine, and she had learned to trust her instincts.  At times she thought that perhaps her madness looked out for her to keep its host.  What good was madness to a dead person?  Stepping into the room with a sigh of relief as the door opened, she once again pulled out her trusty keychain.  The light from the bulb was dim enough to keep from being noticed from the street, or at least she hoped it was.  The last thing she needed to deal with now was someone who might be looking for her patient.

   **_There, in the corner._  She looked more closely and realized that she was indeed looking at a suitcase.  _Good enough.  Let's get out of here._  Swiftly crossing the small room, wincing as she heard the crunch of some kind of insect underfoot, she picked up the suitcase and left the room, making sure to lock it behind her.  Not that a lock would keep anyone with an ounce of determination from getting in . . . unless they used the key.  The door was too flimsy to earn much respect.  **

   Quickly dropping the key off in the nightdrop, she jogged back to her car, eager to get home.  Unfortunately, she wasn't quite fast enough.  As she opened the door to the backseat, she felt a path of fire trace it's way over the underside of her arm, quick as lightning.  When a bullet slammed the door shut a moment later, Tess realized what was going on.  Cursing because the man had been right, she threw herself into the open driver's side door, pulling it closed behind her.  Starting the car as another, then another bullet hit her car – luckily missing the glass– she threw the automobile into gear and raced out of the parking lotat a speed she otherwise would have avoided.

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**Quotes for this chapter come to you from: Princess Bride, PotC, Spiderman, and X-Files: Fight the Future.  Did you catch them all?**

**Author Thanks: much thanks to ****Merrie and ****Miss **Becky**, my most persistent reviewers.  Also thanks go to ****Bitchy ****Little **Pixy** and **Kaliko** for the reassurance that there are more than two people reading this, and most especially to **WakingDream** for volunteering to beta for me.  I really do appreciate all the little things you catch.  Somehow most of this makes more sense when it's in my head than when it's on paper.  [That's actually kinda scary, isn't it? ;)]******


	12. Paying the Piper

**Author's Note: Sorry this one took awhile to get out, but first I had a mild case of writer's block, and then Ashley, my dear beta, had a hectic weekend.  *sigh*  Why does real life have to intrude into the realm of fanfic?  : )**

**Anyway, enjoy this chapter, and be looking for the next between Wednesday and Thursday.  Author's Thanks at the end.**

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Sands was sitting on what he was coming to think of as his bed in a room he was starting to hate to look of, despite the face that he couldn't see it.  It was enough that he could hear what it sounded like.  If he had to see it as well, he might well have taken his guns and started blowing patterns into the bare walls to keep himself occupied.

   How did he know the walls were bare?  Every sound in the room echoed and was amplified.  Acoustically, it was a cross between a bathroom and a storage closet.  From what he was able to surmise, the room held only a bare minimum of furniture and no decorative touches at all.  _Which makes me think that this wasn't meant to be a long term living arrangement._  That did lend some credence to "la niña's" story.

   **_Tessa.  Her name is Tessa.___**

_   Yes, but 'niña' is ever so much more fun._  He smirked, even though the lopsided grin caused a decent amount of pain to shoot through his head.  No matter.  Any facial movement at all caused pain to shoot through his head.  Thinking made his head hurt.  And sound was no gift at the moment either, but it was one he had latched on to with both hands.  There was nothing worse at this point in time, he imagined, than having to exist in a sightless _and soundless world.  Might as well be dead.  And he really had fought too hard to simply eat his gun now._

   _Damn, it's hot.  I hate this country.  True, it's so easy to manipulate a majority of the population, but the climate definitely leaves something to be desired.  It's night.  Why is it so hot?  Carefully removing a blanket from around his shoulders, he thought, _With my current luck I'm getting some kind of infection and running a fever.  Just when you think it can't get any worse._  Remembering some of the shows he had watched, mainly lame Saturday morning cartoons (hey, everyone had a guilty pleasure), he thought with some degree of humor, _At least it's not raining.  _That was probably the best thing he could say about his life right now.  It wasn't raining on him.  _Possibly the biggest shit-storm of all time?  Yes.  Rain?  No.__

   It was boring to sit for untold periods of time with no one to talk to.  Sands briefly considered going to sleep again, hoping that sleep would help him leave behind the pain and the tediousness of his day so far, but knew better than that.  There was no telling just what kind of trouble might come knocking.  Thinking back to the telephone call earlier that day, he decided that it would not be the best idea to let his defenses down at the moment – not when there was no one in the house to alert him to danger.

   _At least I know that she didn't give me away.  While he got a perverse type of satisfaction from making people think he didn't speak a lick of Spanish, he was more than fluent in it.  To the regret of his Spanish teacher, he had taken four years of it in high school and two in college.  He'd even dated a Nicaraguan exchange student for a few months while at the University of Washington.  _

   That had been a surprise – the school, not the girl.  His prospects during his senior year of high school had been much better than some run-of-the-mill  four year school.  His SAT and ACT scores had been good enough for the Ivy League – his parents more than able to afford the tuition.  He had actually enjoyed letting them down by attending some school in Washington that would accept most anyone, provided they had the GPA and the money.  Needless to say, he hadn't spoken to them since.  And they hadn't exactly tried to speak to him either.  Well, his mother kept sending Christmas cards and belated birthday wishes – belated, he figured, because she tried to get dear old dad to sign them as well.  Fat chance of that ever happening.  The old man was just as stubborn as his son.

   _No big loss.  I wasn't the perfect son they wanted, and they weren't the parents I wanted.  _

_   **Shouldn't you be worrying about whoever it is that your bosses sent down after you?**_

****_Bosses?  The CIA?  You want me to worry about a bunch of people who can't decide upon any course of action without first having a seven hour meeting over it and filling out twelve different forms . . . in triplicate?  _

_   **They called . . . they're looking for you.**_

****_They think they talked to a crazy Mexican señorita.  Besides, perhaps if I can't see them, they can't see me._

_   **Oh, so you're two years old now?**_

****_I must admit that things were ever so much simpler then. "If I saw it – it's mine.  If I touched it – it's mine.  If I want it – it's mine . . . ."_

_   **How is that different from your philosophy now?**_  Sands got the impression that his inner self was enjoying itself at his expense.  If it had a face, it'd probably be split in two from a huge smile.  He hated a smug superego, or conscience, or whatever the crap the voice represented.  **_What?  Is your personality so fragmented that you can't remember who you're talking to?_**

****Before he could answer himself, a clock somewhere in the house distantly called out the hour.  He'd never noticed it before.  _Was probably unconscious or listening to the woman babble._  He listened intently, and was amazed to find that it was ten o'clock already.  The little woman had been gone for nearly two hours already.  How had that happened?

   Speaking of _la chiquita, it might be a good thing to go over what he knew of her so far._

   _Let's see . . . she was raised to some extent within the cartel, although she has failed to mention how she ended up "catching their attention."  She has Mexican and American citizenship, something that would make it easy to move between the two countries on cartel business.  She claims to have left the cartel behind, which would place her neck in a considerable amount of danger should she ever be caught.  He rubbed at his head, hoping to relieve some of the headache building up there.  Catching back up with his train of thought he continued, __Yet even with the danger, she stays close enough to them that the risk of being caught would remain relatively high.  Which makes me think that there's something she's not saying.  Simply wanting to thumb her nose at Barillo seems as if it wouldn't be enough of a motivation to stay so close.  Perhaps she has no regard for her own life?  She **is always talking about death.  Could it be that she wants to get caught, or is she still working for them?  The thought was an uncomfortable one.  If she was still working for them, then he was a sitting duck, no matter how many guns she gave him.  If she were suicidal, then she'd drag down those around her with her.  But she had taken in those kids, and from the way she acted around them, it seemed unlikely that she would deliberately act in ways that would put them in more danger.  _Perhaps she's just stupid or overly confident of her ability to stay one step ahead of everyone._**_

_   **Perhaps she's just nuts.**_

****_Perhaps, but even madness has some method to it, or so they say.  So what is driving her method?  Thinking back on how she had spoken of her time with the cartel and the things she had learned, he thought, __Revenge?  Guilt?  Some warped loyalty to some cause only she sees?  Sighing, he continued, _Perhaps it **is just a death wish, just not one strong enough for her to take others down with her.**_  While it made sense, it just didn't __feel right._

_   "No, you are my responsibility . . . . I'll find something for you to wear somewhere."_  _Responsibility, hmm?  Sounds as if guilt was a motivator at some point in her thought process, not that I can track her thought process.  _

_   **Irrelevant.  What else do you know about her?**_

_   Degree in medicine.  She went to college somewhere in the States, then did some kind of internship with Barillo's butcher.  Loves classic literature, apparently.  Has a fascination with death and what's been written about it.  Likes children.  Doesn't like to hurt people, calm, patient even when I'm doing my best to piss her off.  A bit absentminded._

   Thinking of how Tess had managed to help support him during their trip here the night before, Sands switched his mindset to her physical characteristics.  _She's tall, perhaps an inch or so shorter than me.  Sturdy; was able to make it all the way back here while supporting most of my weight.  Has gentle hands, even when she would like to be pissed at me.  Has a decent enough singing voice and a speaking one that sounds as gentle as her hands feel._

_   **Yeah, and if she has a weakness for blind guys, maybe you'll get lucky.**_

   Sands ignored himself.  _I wonder what she looks like?  Once again remembering the times he'd had to lean on her to make it somewhere and the side that had been pressed against him as he walked, he thought, _Her shoulders don't seem to be too broad, and I think they may have been a little bony.  And it didn't feel as if she had all that many curves, although I can't be sure._  He'd been concentrating on other things at the time . . . like containing groans of agony.  __Not that any of this really matters.  It'd just be nice if I had some kind of mental image to go with the voice._

   As he sat and thought, he became aware of a noise coming from the doorway.  Without moving a muscle, he shifted his attention from his thoughts to his ears.  There was someone standing the in doorway – he could hear them breathing.  Several minutes passed as he waited for the other person to speak.  He was reasonably sure that it was one of the kids.  An adult would have been arrogant enough to think that they could move around freely without him detecting their presence.

   His patience was rewarded when the other person shuffled their feet.  "Señor?  Are you awake?"

   _It's the kid with the bike, he thought, ignoring the voice that whispered that the boy's name was Marcos.  He had never been truly comfortable around children.  They were just so kindly naïve that he had always just wanted to avoid them – it's not as if they had anything he wanted.  That and he had always been afraid that his cynical nature would taint them somehow.  He wasn't a happy person.  He wasn't even a content person.  He envied a child's ability to go through a tough time and automatically assume everything would be better the next day.  It was that part of him that had shelled out the money to buy the kid's gum._

   _Good thing I did.  I also managed to buy the boy's loyalty.  While he didn't relish the idea that he possibly (and most probably) owed this kid his life, he wasn't about to make the kid pay for that either.  Everyone bet on a loser at some point in their life – it wasn't the kid's fault that he had picked Sands.  But he wasn't going to speak Spanish for the kid.  "Yeah, I'm awake."_

   The boy took a step inside the room, pausing again just over the threshold.  "Do you hurt?"

   Sands shrugged, unwilling to admit anything that would make the kid either feel sorrow or pity for him.  He'd manage the pain.  "What are you doing up?  It's past ten."

   "Couldn't sleep."

   "Why not?"  **_What are you doing?  Trying to put that two years of psych to work?_**  Sands ignored that comment.  Whether he liked it or not, he owed the kid something for what he had done.  If a night of sleep was the best he could do, so be it.

   "I'm worried."

   "About what?"  _Is it just me, or is it hard to get any usable information out of the Mexican populace in general?_

   "Señora Tessa."

   This caught his attention.  What could Tessa possibly be doing that would cause the kid to be worried?  Shifting his weight over cautiously because of his many wounds, Sands beckoned the kid over to take a seat on the bed.  "What is the señora doing that would make you worry?"

   Marcos heard the note of iron in the man's carefully modulated voice.  Briefly he wondered if he should voice his concerns, but in the end he gave into the worry for one of the two adults currently in his small world.  "I think she went to look at the corner where my parents died.  Or perhaps to find the men who were watching my home last night."

While Sands was careful to not voice his opinion of this aloud, in his mind he was cursing the idiot woman who thought she was indestructible enough to meddle in affairs that were apparently worth killing over.  She was clearly delusional, even suicidal.  First she wanted to go to his motel and pick up clothes for him, when there was a very good chance that either the cartel, renegade militia, the Mexican government, or the CIA would have a surveillance detail somewhere in the area. Now she was visiting crime scenes and hunting down men who had a visible interest in a boy who had helped a man who had been supposed to die in the street from either having his eyes gouged from his head or from a quick bullet from a cartel flunkie.  Oh yes, the woman had brains, but it was obvious that she had no common sense whatsoever.

   In the midst of this rant, Sands abruptly remembered what else the boy had said.  His parents were dead.  "Your parents died yesterday?"

   Marcos nodded, then remembered that the man beside him would be unable to see the movement.  "Sí, señor."  He swallowed and took a deep breath, then continued.  "There was so much blood.  I think they were shot several times, but the police, they would not let me get close enough to look and I didn't stay to ask.  I needed to check on my brother and sisters – to see if they were dead too."

   Sands was impressed by the maturity of this statement, and he also realized why the boy had sought him out.  The kid couldn't have been any older than ten or twelve, but there were some things that just couldn't be talked over with a woman.  Especially in a society where women were still supposed to be protected from the harsher side of life.  "So you went to your house and found that men were watching it.  I'm impressed.  Not many kids your age would have noticed that."

   Some of the boy's shuddering breaths eased.  "Sí, but yesterday was a strange day."  He took a deep breath.  "They were alright, my brother and sisters, but they were scared.  I couldn't take care of them."  

   The confession was agonizing to hear.  This was a culture where the man of the house was supposed to be able to provide for his family.  As the oldest brother, Marcos would have been taught that.  "So you brought them here."  There was no answer, but Sands could hear the boy moving, could feel the bed moving.  The reason soon became clear – the boy had moved closer to him, leaning against the wall, sitting just close enough for the sleeve of his shirt to touch Sands' arm.  He didn't quite know what to think, didn't know what to do.  He could handle talking – that's how he handled most things – but he had no idea how to comfort a boy who had lost all the stability in his world in such a short period of time.  **_Like you lost yours?_**  The voice had no sting to it this time, and Sands realized that talking was all he had to do.

   "Señor?"

   "Hmm?"

   "Were you scared yesterday?"  The question didn't carry an idle inquiry behind it, but rather the uncertainty of child hoping to find that he was normal – an assurance that what he was feeling was normal.  Or at least common.

   Sands took time to weigh his words.  He knew that he had the choice to lie and save face or tell the truth and perhaps give a child some sort of peace of mind.  He didn't think of himself as a nice person, or a kind person, or even a sympathetic person, but he choose to forget that for the moment.  "Terrified."

Ever since Sheldon Jeffery Sands had moved across the country to go to school, he had been in control of himself and his surroundings.  Halfway through his freshman year, he had realized he had a large talent for manipulating and reading people; for getting them to do exactly what he wanted, for knowing exactly how far he could push them before they snapped.  His years in grade school had been too full of anger and antagonism for him to have learned this before.  But here he was on his own for the first time in his life, without daddy's money or mother's societies and community functions to blunt the teeth of reality.  He loved it.  Most people hated him, but that was alright, because he could still get them to do what he wanted.  He knew he was full of it, but he managed to pull it off without getting his ass kicked, so who cared.

   School had been a breeze.  He was smart enough to be able to pass his classes with a minimum of effort, and as a result of having so much free time, he had taken up the sport of people baiting.  Of getting to know people, and then learning what buttons to push to get which reactions.  It had been amusing to see how many people he could alienate or twist around his little finger.  It was then, five months into his freshman year that he had decided to join the CIA when he graduated.  The possibilities of the manipulations he could pull off on a national level had intrigued him.  What could be better than doing something you enjoyed than getting paid to do it?

   He had left the U of W campus five years later with a masters in Political Science, a BS in Economics, and half a BS in psychology.  Eighteen months of academy training later, and he was set loose.  Well, not loose.  He'd had to do a lot of dirty work, jobs that were the equivalent of having to scrub urinals with one's toothbrush before he was allowed to do what he really wanted.  He'd done a few jobs, cleared up a few messes caused by other more incompetent agents, and then the higher-ups had seen what he was good at doing.  Keeping the balance, walking the line between legality and outright criminal behavior, between madness and brilliance.  And then, three years ago – the big offer had come his way.  Keep things moving smoothly in Mexico?  Make sure that politics there always came out favorably for the U.S.?  His reply had been, "When do I leave?"

   And for a little over two years he had walked that line, had kept that balance.  Then whispers of a coup d'etat had reached his ears through one of his many channels of information.  Normally, he would have let events play out the way his bosses would want.  But this time there was a lot of money involved.  Enough money that whoever could get a hold of it would be able to run this country while quitting his day job.  He could disappear and pull the strings of political power in a manner that suited him.  Or he could move to another country entirely and set up shop there.  Either way he figured, it was just another chance to expand his talent; that it was the next logical step.  Except this time he had overreached himself, had made one tiny yet fatal misstep.

   When Ajedrez had sat down across from him in that dinner with that self-satisfied smirk on her face, he had known that the game was up.  He thought he could face that, but then he had felt the needle pierce his skin, and all he could feel was an overwhelming fear as he fell from his position on the fence.  Icharus had failed to learn from past mistakes and had once again flown too close to the sun.

   And then there came all the things he tried not to think about, but couldn't make leave his mind.  Worst was the knowledge that he was strapped to a table, unable to move, and a madman was going to remove his eyes while a bunch of goons and one traitorous bitch sat around and laughed at the stupid American.

   Yes, had been scared yesterday.  He had been so terrified that he was lucky his underpants were still clean.  And the fear hadn't stopped when he'd been allowed to leave.  The feel of mingled sun and blood on his face had chilled him to the core.  So he had done what he had always done when he was scared – he had fought.  And in the end it still hadn't been enough.  If Marcos hadn't come along or if Tessa had refused to treat him, he'd be dead right now.  He would have lost everything in one fell swoop – his freedom, his future, his life, and worst of all, his independence.  He had been fucking petrified.  But what he had admitted to the boy would suffice – the kid didn't need to know the rest.  

Tess wanted to go home.  The graze on her arm throbbed with a low pain, that had she been able to hear it, would have sounded similar to the pulsing sound waves of the lowest musical instrument on the planet.  The sleeve of her jacket was wet with blood.  Deciding that it was safe to head home, she made a U-turn in an empty parking lot and headed back across the city.

   She had been driving around for a little over an hour now, making sure that there was no one following her.  When she had caught a glimpse of her attackers at the motel, she hadn't thought her two assailants had had a car, and now she was reasonably sure that she was right.  Despite the fact that she had kept her eyes peeled for any hint of pursuit, Tessa had seen no trace of her attackers, even though she had stopped outside two apartments and the hospital.  She'd even been sitting in that last parking lot for twenty minutes and hadn't even seen a car go by.  All Tess wanted to do was go home, look in on her patient, check on the children, tend her wounds, take her medications, and go to bed.

   Making sure to park behind the house where her car wouldn't be visible from the street, Tess climbed out of the car, holding her injured arm to her chest to keep the pain as dim as she could until she could tend to it properly.  She left her packages in the car – it wasn't as if any of it would spoil overnight.  **_What about the suitcase?  You certainly paid enough to get it.  Shouldn't you bring it in?_**

_   I'm tired._

_   **And a wuss.  Stop whining and bring it in.**_

_   I hate you._

_   **I don't care.**_

   Walking the three steps back to the car, she opened the door and grabbed the suitcase in her good hand.  Setting it on the ground so that she could close the door quietly, she noticed the bullet holes in her car.  _I'll look at it tomorrow and see if I can pull any bullets out.  Perhaps that will help me decide who **wasn't shooting at me.**_  The cartel was the only group she could discount with a reasonable amount of surety.  But if it hadn't been cartel, she had no idea who it might have been.

   Approaching the house with dragging steps, she once again set down her burden to unlock the door, keeping her bloody arm motionless.  After drawing a pint of blood yesterday, Tessa wasn't ready to lose this much blood today; she was already drowsy and getting lightheaded.  The door opened.  Stepping inside, she put the suitcase on the floor by the kitchen door, unwilling to carry it any farther tonight.  She was going to go straight into the back of the house, but the voice interrupted her.  **_You know, locking_ the door might be a good idea.__**  She made a face, but did turn back to set the deadlock.  "Now can I go to bed?" she asked wearily and quietly.  She got no response.

   Walking down the hallway, concentrating to keep from weaving on her feet, she made it to her bedroom.  She was only a step or two inside the door when she heard the click of a safety switching off.  Looking up, confused, she saw that her patient was wide awake . . . but the boy at his side was not.  Ignoring the gun, she asked in a tone that showed just how befuddled her mind was, "What is Marcos doing in here?"

   Now that he knew who was in the house, Sands lowered the gun.  Embarrassed to be caught with the boy asleep on the bed at his side, he ignored her question in favor of asking his own.  It was always best to be on the offensive.  "What took you so long?  I thought you were just going to pick up some groceries.  Did you get my cigarettes?"

   "I did get groceries.  And I got your cigarettes.  But I also had to buy some clothes for the kids, and I didn't know what sizes they wore, and then I had to get clothes for you . . . ."  She trailed off.

   "I wasn't aware that stores in Mexico stayed open past midnight."  Looking at her watch, Tess saw that it was indeed that late.  So much for that excuse.  "Let me guess – a crime scene managed to distract you on your way home?"

   Tess rolled her eyes.  Well, she knew how the man had entertained himself while she was away – by pumping information out of Marcos.  She was about to berate him for that before he could berate her for doing something with the potential of being dangerous when Marcos woke up, disturbed by their conversation.

   She considered making a run for the bathroom before he spotted her injury, but didn't have time.  As soon as he opened his eyes he saw her, and the moment after that he realized that she was bleeding.  "Señora!  What's happened?!  You're bleeding!"

The idiot woman had managed to get herself hurt.  He had known it.  Served her right for doing something so foolhardy as to go back to the sight where people had been murdered, or where people were obviously lying in wait for prey.  She was lucky she wasn't dead.

   He listened as she tried to quiet the boy in a voice that was steadily getting weaker and weaker.  Whatever he thought of her actions, it sounded like she needed medical attention soon.  It would be no good if the only completely functioning adult in the house was put out of commission.  "Marcos.  Go to bed."

   The boy stopped his flow of Spanish long enough for Sands to be sure that he had been understood.  He felt the bed shift as the boy slid off it, heard bare feet walk across the room.  Heard Tess give a murmured reassurance, then heard the door close.  Then nothing for several moments.  "How bad is it?"

   "It's just a graze.  I'll be fine."  If he believed that, then he should go look outside to see if there were any rainbows or leprechauns in sight.  He saved this opinion as he heard shod feet mover across the hardwood floor in the direction of the bathroom.  If she wanted to be the strong silent type, that was fine with him.  He'd used up any gentleness he had on the boy.  He was in no mood to comfort a fool.

   He heard clothes being taken off, the soft thud of fabric hitting the floor, the hissed breath of someone in pain.  _Serves her right, he thought, trying to defeat the urge to get up and see . . . find out . . . what exactly was wrong.  It almost worked after he heard nothing else for several moments, but a low cry broke that resolve.  Or it at least roused his curiosity._

   Getting up, ignoring the fact that he was wearing next to nothing, Sands made his way into the bathroom.  He knew he had reached his goal when an exhausted voice told him, "Go back to bed.  You shouldn't be up.  If you pass out now, I'll be forced to let you spend the night on the floor, because I won't be able to pick you up."

   "Relax, chiquita.  I just wanted to hear the truth about how bad it is, and how you got it.  Marcos sounded fairly concerned."

   She glanced at him in the mirror before turning her mind back to how to get her t-shirt off without hurting herself more.  "Marcos has had a rough past twenty-four hours.  He's concerned because I represent his last modicum of safety in a world gone mad, and me getting injured means that he's not as safe as he would wish to be."  Sands said nothing, obviously waiting for answers to his questions.  **_You are in no condition to fight, my dear.  Just tell the man what he wants to hear._  "Fine.  I very nearly got shot in the arm, but luckily the bullet only grazed me.  And while it is painful and bleeding in a manner that might be considered profusely under other circumstances, I will be fine as soon I as get the chance to patch myself up."**

   "And what was the situation that you forced your way into that involved guns and flying bullets?"

   "None of your business."

   Sands clicked his tongue and shook his head.  "That was rude.  I think my delicate feelings have been smashed.  You want to try again?"

   "No."  The syllable came out in a sulky tone.

   "Why not?"  If Tess had been blind herself, she would have thought that the man behind her was inquiring after the health of someone's dearest great-aunt.  Then again, his 'tirado' vibes were out in full force.  It was clear that he was going to get answer from her even if he had to bar the way out of the bathroom until one of them passed out from weariness.

   "Because you're going to get mad, and that would be bad for you until you've had a bit more time to recover."

   Sands lost all pretense of amusement, his face freezing.  The lack of expression on it was chilling.  There was only one thing he could think of that would make him mad.  "You found out where I was staying and went there, didn't you."  It wasn't a question; instead, a confirmation of a hunch.

   "Yes."  Tessa's reply was whispered as she hunched a shoulder and waited for the blow she knew was sure to follow her admission.  It never came.  Instead the man grinned rather mirthlessly.

   "I think that I owe you a rather large 'I-told-you-so.'"  He let that sink in for a few seconds before asking in a voice that clearly indicated how inept he thought she was, "I don't suppose you got a look at the men who shot you?"

   "I didn't need to, and I didn't loiter once I figured out that someone was trying to kill me.  Maybe I don't know who it was, but I do know who it wasn't – or least I'm reasonably sure."  The man looked unconvinced.  She sighed.  "Whoever was firing at me was using a silencer.  Those aren't standard issue within the cartel.  Barillo had enough power in the area that he didn't need to hide what he was doing.  However, those gunshots were conspicuously quiet.  It was someone else."

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**Author's Thanks:**

To** Kaliko, Sue, Miss Becky, Merrie, and** Bitchy Little Pixy, **for your continued support and constant reviews.  Much love to you all for the support.  To** fiondra **for being a new reviewer – new reviews give me fresh inspiration, or perhaps it's just some sort of writer's high that makes me want to go write.  *shrug*  Whatever it is, I hope to hear from you again.  Lastly, many, _many, _****_many_, thanks to**** Ashley who stepped up to be my beta without me having to ask, and who does a great job of untangling some of my more tangled sentences.  Many gracias my friend.**


	13. Advice From Humpty Dumpty

**Author's Note: yea!  Next chapter up inside a week!  Whoo-hoo!  Hope you all enjoy it.  I do kinda skip around time wise, but I think it manages to flow without losing too much impact.  Quote sources, various explanations, and author's thanks at the end.**

**I'll see what I can be done about posting by Thursday.  : )**

**I'd love to hear from anyone actually reading this . . . .**

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Sands had been hoping that Tess was going to be able to convince him that it had been the cartel staking out his motel **– but no luck.  If what she was saying was true, then it had probably been CIA taking shots at her.  The CIA really liked their silencers; they liked being able to pretend that they melted into the shadows everywhere they went.  He had always preferred to blend in with his surroundings.  Or to appear so foolish that no one gave him a second look.  He let these thoughts occupy him until he heard another hiss of pain come from the woman in the room.  "You seem to be making an awful lot of noise for someone who claims that they aren't seriously hurt."**

   "While I realize that you're doing your best to be helpful, you still haven't managed to point out anything that I didn't already know for myself.  Since that would be the case, I'd appreciate it if you would kindly return yourself to my bed before you collapse."

   "I can assure you that if I do collapse, it will be after I've been in your bed for some time, chiquita."

   "Mmm.  I appreciate your attempt at levity, but what I'm trying to say is, _go away._"  Tessa's voice was tight with pain, her grip on her temper fraying.  She already knew that she had done something stupid and was well aware that she was paying the due price for it.  She didn't need smart aleck commentary as she contemplated the best way to get her shirt off without breaking her wound open again.

   She cursed silently, wondering if the injury could be more inconveniently placed.  It was on the under part of her upper right arm, and to get the t-shirt off she needed to raise her arms above her head.  There wasn't a chance of that happening without causing the wound to start bleeding and throbbing again.  Realizing she needed help, Tess started to grumble under her breath.

   "I didn't quite catch that, chiquita."

   Sighing, deciding she might as well humor the man so he would go to bed, Tessa replied, "I was just saying that I really didn't want to wake one of the children to help me, but apparently I don't have much of a choice.  I can't get my shirt off by myself without making things worse."  She tried to leave the small room, but Sands was blocking her exit.  "Excuse me."

   "Nope."

   Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "What do you mean, 'nope?'  I need to tend to this shot as soon as I can, and then I should probably take another look at all _your_ injuries before bedding down in the hallway."

   "The hallway?"  Just when he thought that the girl couldn't come up with another outlandish idea, she managed to do so.

   "Yes.  The hallway.  That corridor that connects the back of the house to the front of the house.  I want to be able to hear the kids if one of them needs me in the night, and I want to be able to hear you if you happen to need more painkillers.  Will you move now?"

   Sands decided to ignore **–** for the moment – that he was cohabitating the same house with a woman who apparently had a lot of knowledge, but no sense whatsoever.  "Nope."  He crossed his arms across his chest, leaning more firmly against the doorjamb.  "Those kids need sleep.  Besides, how much help are they really going to be?"

   "So what do you suggest I do?"  Sands showed his teeth in what might, under different circumstances, resemble a reassuring smile.  Tess realized what a stupid question that had been.  She shook her head, unaware that it wasn't helping her make her point.  "Uh-uh.  If you're suggesting what I think you are, the answer is no.  I can do this myself."

   If he had had eyes, Sands would have rolled them.  "Then stop whining and get to it."

   Tess stood in a misery of indecision, a sudden wave of modesty washing over her.  It didn't matter that he couldn't see - he still** had hands.  He could still feel and should he decide to, he would probably be able to overpower her and do just that.  **_Don't even consider it, Teresa.  You wouldn't stand a chance against him.  Helpless, that's what you would be.  And you know how much we hate being helpless._****

****_But I need help getting my shirt off.  I can't do it myself without making things worse._

   **_It's not worth the risk._**

 Silently, Tess gave way to the voice.  Deep inside she feared it was right, but she knew it was wrong.  She needed help.  Giving up on the internal conflict, she swallowed hard and said, "Will you _please_ go into the other room?  I'm not used to undressing in front of strange men."

   "But you don't mind undressing them?"  For the first time in several days, Sands might say that he was actually feeling a bit of amusement.  _La chiquita was getting modest about stripping in front of him.  He had no eyes - it wasn't as if he was going to be ogling** her or anything.**_

   "That's different.  I'm a doctor."

   "What are you suggesting?  That only people with a medical background can be clinically detached when it comes to the human body?"  Silence.  "If that _is_ what you're suggesting, then let me just say that I went through several courses of advanced first aid.  And I sincerely doubt you've got anything I haven't seen before."

   "I thought that was supposed to be my line."  

   Sands could still hear the nervousness and weariness in her voice.  "Look señorita, we could stand here all night and . . . converse . . . or we can get you out of those bloody clothes so you can keep enough blood in your body to be able to function tomorrow."

   He was right.  That was what it came down to.  It was silly to think that any man she came across would take advantage of her if she let her guard down.  Her mind was screaming at her to reconsider, but she had made up the part of her mind that she had control over.  "Ok, but I only need help getting my arms out of the sleeves.  After that I really do want you to go lie down."

Tess couldn't believe what she was doing as she turned her back to Sands, watching in the mirror as he stepped up behind her.  She had been in this type of situation before and it had turned out badly for her - although not as badly as for the man also involved.  She'd been traumatized.  He'd been killed.

   When Sands reached out a hand and touched her back, she jumped, nervousness getting the best of her.  _At least I didn't shriek._  The thought dropped like a block of ice and broke on the floor of reality as Sands lightly ran his hand up her spine to her shoulder.  It was too much, too familiar.  There were simply too many unpleasant memories triggered by the touch.  Unable to stop herself, knowing she either had to protest or face the memories, she stepped away and said in a shaky voice, "Please don't.  This was a mistake.  The shirt is already ruined.  I'll just cut it off."

   "What's wrong, niña?  Don't you trust me?"

   _"Don't you trust me?"  The touches grew rough, making her gasp in pain . . . .  Slamming what was left of  her shaky control over the can of worms this had opened up, she said, "No.  Not particularly."_

   Sands realized that he had reached the limit of how far he could push her before things turned unpredictable.  He wasn't in any state to handle unpredictability right now.  Maybe in a few days . . . .  "Smart girl," he murmured.  "Relax.  I'm not going to bite."  Remembering that she had said that the gun shot was on her right arm, he decided to free her left arm first.

   Holding in a sigh of relief as the touch turned from a light brush to a no-nonsense, impersonal guide, Tessa turned her left side towards Sands as he pushed on her right side.  Sands gripped her left sleeve with both hands as she withdrew her arm through the hole.  Easy part done.  Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Are you sure I can't just cut the shirt off?"

   The comforting reply was, "Stop being a baby."  Sands slid a hand across her shoulders to her right arm with determination.  "Ready?"

   "If I said 'no' would it matter?"  Gritting her teeth, Tess slowly pulled her right arm inside her t-shirt exhaling abruptly as the skin around the injury stretched and pulled at the seared edges of the wound.  She _hated_ gun wounds with a passion.  Whoever had invented them ought to be taken out into the street and trampled by horses.  No, better yet, whoever had invented _gunpowder_ ought to be thrown over the side of a ship located right over the Mariana Trench.  _Yes, that would be good.  Too bad such a fate is improbable since gunpowder has been around for several thousand years or something like that._

_   **Hey, a girl's gotta dream.**_  Her arm was all the way inside her shirt.  They were done, although she was not.  "Thank you.  I think I can handle everything from here."

   "An expert at tying bandages one handed, are we?"

   She was never going to get rid of him.  That was it.  She had made some unspeakable mistake by taking this man in, and now the cosmos, the very Fates themselves, were aligning topunish her.  There was no other explanation.

   **_You're absolutely right.  Someone is clearly out to get you.  Perhaps he's just waiting until you let your guard down, doing what he can to make you lower your defenses.  And then tonight, while you're sleeping, he'll come out into the hall and . . . ._**

****_"Shut up," Tess growled under her breath.  Glancing at her patient, who was obviously taking that comment as a reply to his sardonic statement, she continued the thought silently.  **_No one_**__ is out to get me.  I have **nothing** to be paranoid about.  Once he's asleep he won't stir until morning.  It's late and his body is still recovering from yesterday.  There's no reason to think that I won't be perfectly safe tonight._

_   **Especially if you give him something to make him sleep.  He's blind.  He'd never know.  Get him before he gets you.**_

****_I will not give in to paranoia!  I won't give in to **you**._

_   **But it's tempting, isn't it?**_

****_No.  Pulling her shirt over her head faster than was wise, Tess opened her medicine cabinet and pulled out several bottles and her booster.  Quickly opening the tops, she swallowed the pills without any water, then gave herself the injection.  It might not have been the wisest thing to do since she had already given herself one that morning, but the thought of having a schizophrenic episode terrified her.  She was willing to risk the migraine and nausea she'd have in the morning, if only she could stay in control of herself.  _

   "Something wrong, señorita?"

   _Oh God, please don't let him suspect anything.  Please.  "No.  Nothing's wrong.  I just thought that I would take some Ibuprofen before cleaning and wrapping this.  The sooner it kicks in the better."  Turning from the mirror, she realized that her patient had reached his limit.  He was pale and his face was sweaty** – **clearly 'Giovanni' had overexerted himself.  "Sit down before you pass out.  And if you would be so kind as to contain your arguments?"  She ushered him over to the toilet, making sure the lid was down before he took a seat.  Amazingly enough, he did as she directed without any resistance or smart comments, which worried her.  She checked for fever by laying her good hand on his forehead.  He was hotter than she thought safe.  Tess doubted that his body had anything left with which to fight a fever._

   _Don't be an alarmist.  Take his temperature first.  "Stay here."  Going out into the bedroom, Tessa dug her thermometer out of her medicine case.  She walked back into the bathroom, holding her right arm against her body to avoid jostling it as much as possible, and said, "Open your mouth.  I need to take your temperature.  I think you're running a fever."  Again Sands obeyed without protest.  Seconds after placing the instrument in his mouth, the thermometer let out a small beep.  Tess removed it and checked it to see just how hot her patient was.  _100.8 degrees.  Ah, crap.****__

   "So, how bad is it doc?"

   "Mmm . . . you're running a temp, 100.8 to be specific."  Thoughtfully she said, "It's not bad enough that I'm worried yet . . . but I would like to give you some Ibuprofen to bring it down, and I want to check all your injuries to make sure that none of them are infected."  She scratched her head with her good hand.  "I have some of the more common antibiotics with me, but they're most effective if infection is caught early."

It turned out that Tessa had needed Sands' help to tie a bandage around her armafter all.  To give her credit, she had tried for some time to do it herself as Sands sat on the toilet and listened to her mumbles of frustration and muffled exclamations of pain.  Finally he had tired of her obstinacy and had called her by name.  Surprised, she had submitted silently as he had wrapped a bandage around her wound** – **even though she thought that he wrapped it a bit tighter than was necessary.

   "Thank you," she mumbled under her breath.  Sands ignored this and tried to stand up, his legs not quite supporting him.  Darting an arm around his waist, Tess managed to get hold of him before he fell to the ground.  They both let out hisses of pain; Sands because his head was throbbing in pain again, Tess because in catching Sands she had slammed the burn on her left side into her patient.  Once she could speak with a voice clear of pain, Tess observed, "We make quite a pair, don't we?  Both of us shot up, and neither quite able to walk confidently on our own."

   Irritated at having to be forced to depend on someone else for support, Sands said in a bored voice, "I'm sure you tried to inject some humor in that statement, but I'm afraid it escaped me.  Why don't you stick to saying that you can do things on your own?  That joke seems to be working for you."

   **_And you thought he was finally working his way out of that funk._  The thought feebly pushed it's way into her mind and rang just as faintly in her ears.  The medication was taking hold, putting it to sleep.  Giving a silent prayer of thanks, Tess kept her mouth shut and slowly maneuvered Sands out of the bathroom and over to the bed.**

   Ignoring his own weakening protests, Tess efficiently unwrapped all of Sands injuries, starting with his eyes.  She had horrible visions of infection getting a decent hold there and spreading through the rest of his body until she could do nothing more than watch him die.  As she was removing the gauze, she could tell that he was finding this to be an unpleasant experience** by the faint red flags of either embarrassment or anger highlighting his cheekbones.  Knowing there was nothing she could say to comfort or console him, she merely conducted an examination as quickly as she could.**

   Nothing.  There was nothing; no sign of infection, no sign of current bleeding.  Dropping her head in relief, Tessa said, "Well, the good news is that if there is infection, it's in one of your other wounds."  No reply.  Taking time to rewrap his eyes in a fresh layer of cotton, Tess composed herself.  It was no more fun to have to examine those wounds than it could be to have someone examine them.  They were obscene; a perversion of what had most likely been a beautiful face – what was still a deeply attractive face.  Tess sincerely hoped that wherever Guevera was, he was paying for this and every other thing he had ever done.

   Deciding to simply work here way done his body, Tess next looked at the bullet wound in his left arm.  Ah, here was the culprit.  The skin around the stitches was pink, stretched, and oozing a clear liquid.  Laying a gentle finger to the side of it, she could feel that it was hot.  Reaching into her case, she pulled out two bottles – one of antibacterial ointment and one of penicillin.  Cleaning the wound, she wrapped it again and then managed to convince Sands to take one of the pills.

   "One of those three times of day, and soon you'll be feeling a bit more like normal." 

"Why are you doing this?  What's the point?"  It was nearing three in the morning and Sands condition had worsened.  The fever was no longer a concern for Tessa; now, it was managing to lower her patient's amount of pain to the point where he could rest.  Tess knew that she too needed sleep** –** that she was nearing the point where she was going to start making fatigue induced mistakes.  Mistakes that could not be afforded now.  "What are you trying to do?"

   _Make the pain go away.  That's all.  Make **your** pain go away.  Make **my** pain go away.  Too many people hurt, too many left in pain.  Too many left dead.  Too much blood left on my family's account.  "What am I trying to do?"  She couldn't remember any more.  "I'm trying to make you well again."_

   "Why?"  The question was accompanied by a gasp of pain.  Tess reached down and took Sands' hand, hoping to reassure andcalm him.  To comfort a man who in all likelihood would have smacked her for the effort had he been in control of himself.  But he wasn't.  His pain was riding him, controlling him like falconer controls his falcon.  By using blindness and bindings.  In this state he could grasp her hand and cling to this pale example of human closeness.  Unfortunately though, comfort does not always drive away fear and suspicion.  "What are you planning?  To hand me over to what's left of the cartel?"

   "No.  I am not planning anything.  I just want to see you well, out of reach of death's shadow."

   "_Why?"  _

   The question was anguished, tormented.  Tess couldn't tell if this was because of the pain or due to other** internal demons.  Demons she knew all too intimately herself.  "Because you didn't deserve this.  No one deserves this."**

   "You might be surprised.  I'm quite the bastard.  Arrogant, insulting, shot men just to watch them die, that sort of thing."

   Tess was quiet, unsure of how to respond to such an admission.  She'd known too many men who could say the same to take his words lightly.  She wasn't a priest who could offer him advice on spiritual matters – she could offer no absolution.  But neither could she condemn him without condemning herself.  Ignoring his words would not make them go away, but accepting them seemed wrong as well.  As if there was no hope left for him.  No hope of change, no hope of redemption, no hope of tomorrow's dawn, which would come whether he could see it or not.

   "What's wrong, chiquita?  You don't have an answer for that?"

   "That's not the sort of statement that requires an answer."  His grip on her hand loosened as the latest wave of pain became bearable once again. He would drop off into sleep and she would doze until the next one awoke them both.  The night couldn't go on like this.  She needed sleep to face the coming day.  "Señor, are you sure you want nothing to help with the pain?  To help you sleep?"

   "No."

   "Why not?  Sleep will help your body heal itself."

   As if he were explaining things to a young child, he patiently said, "Because** my mind will be able to run unchecked if you drug me into unconsciousness.  That's not something I'm willing to put up with."******

   This she knew.  The dreams that made sleep a living nightmare.  The terror that came when you realized that you couldn't wake up . . . that the dream would continue for all eternity until you went mad with it.  If you weren't already.  "The dreams?"

   With a bitter smirk, Sands recited:

 "'To die, to sleep - 

To sleep, perchance to dream, aye there's the rub,

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause; there's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life.'

What say you to that, chiquita?"

   Tess smiled.  "I say, 'Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of the week.'  Although, I'm not sure that William Dement was right about that.  There's no such thing as a safe madness."  It was true.  Or maybe it was only true for those who were already mad.  Maybe for those who were sane, madness was indeed safe in dreams.  "Go to sleep.  You'll be awake again all too soon.  We'll deal with the pain as it comes."

   Sands shook his head, the side to side motion barely discernable.  He was probably afraid that any real motion would set off another round of pain.  "You should go into another room and get some sleep.  Those kids are going to be up in the morning.  I don't have to deal with them, or at least not politely.  There's no reason you should suffer alongside me."

   "Nobody deserves to suffer alone."

   "But some of us prefer it."  There was silence, then the woman let go of his hand.  More silence.  If she was trying to make him think she had left the room, she definitely needed sleep.  "I don't hear you leaving, chiquita.  I'm serious.  Buzz off."  Steps echoed weakly through the room as she left.  He wasn't sure if she ever made it past the doorway – sleep claimed him before he could be certain.  As he drifted off, though, he thought he heard the song that he had heard her singing earlier.  For the rest of the night, his dreams were filled not with the sound of drills, but with the sight of a mournful Ajedrez singing, _Pray for us sinners._

Tess, asleep on the hallway floor and wrapped in a tattered blanket, was awoken rudely the next morning.  She had been deeply asleep, too exhausted to even dream, when the ringing of a cell phone broke into her mind, drilling relentlessly at her conscious.

   She moaned, and tried to ignore the sound, begging whatever deity was in control of her fate for a few more minutes of sleep.  Useless.  With every ring of the phone, Tess became more aware of the hard floor beneath her, of the irritating throbbing of her arm and side, and of the sun shining in her eyes.  

   Cursing to herself, she stumbled to her feet, seeing through blurry, barely open eyes.  Cell phone . . . cell phone.  Hadn't she smashed it yesterday?  No, that was another phone.  As she rose, her head started pounding and her stomach rolled – unpleasant reminders of the lengths she had been driven to the night before to subdue her voice.  _Cell phone.  Where's the cell phone?  My cell phone?  Yes, my cell phone.  Oh god, my head hurts.  I'll skin whoever is calling at** this time of the**** morning.  No, that's too pleasant.  I'll give them my headache.  No . . . I'll give them my voice, and then I can be normal and will feel like calling people in the morning.**_

   Stumble, stumble, catch balance, stumble.  Reach out, pull open desk drawer in the living room.  _Patient?  Did he wake up?  No.  Asleep in the bedroom.  Push button, hold to ear.  "Hello?"  Her voice was rough with sleep, pain, and yet more weariness.  Sit on couch before passing out._

   "T?"

   "Yes, this is Tessa."

   "Oh, wasn't sure.  You sound horrible.  Are you sick?"  The voice on the other end of the line was cheerful.  Tess immediately took a strong dislike to whoever it belonged to.

   "Who is this and what the hell are you doing calling so early," Tess demanded irritably.  If she had to talk on the phone this early, the least her caller could do was make sense.

   "T, I'm hurt.  Don't you recognize old friends?"

   "What time is it?"

   "Umm . . ." there was a pause, as if whoever it was was checking a watch or clock.  "It's a little after eight."

   "Your time or my time?"

   "Our time.  This is Logan."

   _Oh.  That explained it.  "Well, to answer your question: yes, I usually talk to 'old friends' like that after less than five hours of sleep and what was surely an overdose of anti-hallucinogens."  Logan was one of the few people she had let in on her little secret.  It had been kind of hard to hide after he had been there for her one and only breakdown._

   "Rough night?"

   "Rough week, it seems like."  She sighed.  Logan didn't call often, so if he was calling now, then it was probably important.  "But I have it under control.  Why did you feel the sudden uncontrollable urge to call me?  Thinking about dating someone new and want me to give my opinion of her based on what you say?  I think we're both smart enough to agree that that didn't help you so much the last time we tried it."  Logan had been one of her best friends at med school.  It had all started out because she had been the one in their study group willing to _try anything at least once (after finally being free of her father's overbearing scrutiny), and he had been the guy who had __suggested anything.  Tess preferred to think about their "escapades" as "bonding experiences."_

   "No.  Nothing like that."  The excitement was creeping back into his voice.  "You know the experiments that I've been running?"  

   "The ones on that new transplant technique that everyone but your employer said was crazy?"

   "Yeah, that one.  Guess what?"

   "You've either been fired for daydreaming or spending all of your department's funds."

   "No.  I've gotten permission from the FDA to start human trials."

   Suddenly, Tess saw how she could repay the rest of her debt.

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**Explanations: **

**1) when Sands has a **fever** at the beginning that is "100.8" that's about ****38.2 degrees Celsius (not sure how many readers are on metric systems and all that.  The US certainly isn't, had to search for the conversion rate.)**

**2) when Tess gets the phone call from her friend, I'm assuming that Culíacan is in the same ****timezone as the LA area.  Might be wrong, but I really had no way of knowing for sure.  If I'm wrong, please let me know.**

**3) my deeply appreciated beta pointed out that I'm making use of a fairly large coincidence what with the doctor friend who's been experimenting with transplant techniques.  Yeah, I realized that myself, but decided to go through with it anyway, no matter how far fetched it seems.  Not even sure that it's even possible, but I'm going to work with it.  I'm a firm believer in the "coincidences are miracles that prefer to remain anonymous" school of thinking, and Sands could use one of those about now.  Don't like, don't read or send me a better way to go about this.  Just don't flame because I won't pay attention.**

**Quotes: Shakespeare's Hamlet, William Dement (which is odd, considering he was talking about insanity), and a minor one for PotC.  Points for you if you can find it.  : )**

**Author Thanks:  thanks go out to **Merrie******, Bitchy Little Pixy, and **Kaliko** for their faithful reviews.  I get a lot of encouragement from those.  ****Pixy – I'm going to miss you while you're in Ireland.  Hope you have a nice trip.  Thanks also go out to ****The Flaming Chia Pet, a new reviewer who's display of righteous anger over reviews made me smile when I needed one.  Hope to hear from you again.  : )  Lastly, but with more thanks and gratitude than I can say, I thank **Ashley** for being a willing beta who does a great job keeping everything on track even though she's got her own life (unlike me. **; )**).  Many of the things that get explained are caught be her, since they make sense in my head, and I don't necessarily read things after I've typed them. *shrug*  "You complete me." **


	14. Breaking the News

**Author's Note:  hey, it's still Thursday my time, so I am very proud to post this in the hour before Friday.  : )  Hope you like, hope you catch the POV changes – they may be a little confusing.  I cleaned them up the best I could though.  *shrug***

**One thought before I stop rambling.  How is it that I manage to get an average of two new reviewers with every chapter, yet no chapter has more than five reviews?  *scratches head*  Oh, well – can only hope people are still reading.  *sigh*  (I'm pathetic, aren't I?  _: )_)**

**Author's thanks at end.**

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Tess spent the majority of her day cleaning.  It wasn't something that needed to be done, but rather something she did out of nervous habit.  Tapping her nails was fine for smaller worries, but with as much on her mind as she had now?  No . . . that required cleaning.  Unfortunately, there was little in her sparse house to clean.  She dusted what furniture and surfaces required it, swept and mopped, washed all her dirty clothes, and scrubbed the bathroom and kitchen until her arm told her in no uncertain terms that if she didn't stop soon, it was going to rebel.

   The woman had managed to stop long enough to feed the children, who had woken between ten and eleven in the morning.  But minutes after seeing that the dishes were washed, Tess found herself tapping her feet and drumming her nails against the kitchen counter.  _Fine.  More cleaning._  With that thought, she had ushered Marcos into the bathroom, telling him to wash and then make sure René and Alma followed his example.  Selena she took into the kitchen and placed in a sinkful of warm water.  Once the baby was dry and clean, Tess had managed to wash her own hair in a haphazard manner; it was a difficult thing to do well when one only had one arm that they could raise above their head.

   Noon came and went and still she felt the need to clean – as if the very act of making her house and all under its roof clean would sweep her jumbled thoughts into order.  And now that she and the children were as clean as they were going to get, it was time to turn her attention to her patient.  He, while cleaner than he might have been under other circumstances, was getting a bit ripe.  The only difficulty standing in her way was convincing him to let her help him clean up.

   At the thought of _that ordeal, at the thought of spending even more time with a man who so easily unsettled her, Tess almost went outside to wash the windows.  The only thing that stopped her was the thought of someone catching her in the act of cleaning windows in what was supposed to be an abandoned neighborhood.  Arms akimbo, she surveyed the rest of her house – there was nothing left to clean.  It was nearly clean enough to perform surgery in.  _

   _Surgery.  The word echoed through her head.  Even since Logan had called that morning and awoken her with his news, she had been on edge.  What had started as simple annoyance had turning into a conversation that held hope.  Hope for her, that this last act of repentance would ease her mind and heart, and hope for her patient, that he might be able to see again.  It was a crazy, half-formed, and easily discarded hope . . . but it was more than 'Giovanni' had had since coming here.  More hope than she had had since she could remember._

-_Thwap, thwap, thwap-_  Sands had come to recognize that sound of bare feet on a hardwood floor.  Not that he had a lot of people dying to visit him – just the woman and the kid.  The other kids stayed out unless Tess was there, either too shy or too scared to come in themselves.  Even the youngest kid stayed out, preferring to stay with its siblings.  Sands thought Tess might have said that the baby was a girl, but he couldn't remember.  He was having a hard time remembering anything other than the time he had spent in this bed.  Real life, a life where he could see things, was already fading.  _If you're going to be blind, might as well go all the way._

_   -Thwap . . . thwap, thwap-_  It was the hesitation that gave her away every time.  She would come in walking with a determined stride, but somewhere around the midpoint of the room she would pause, unsure if he was awake or what her welcome would be if he was.  _Why is she nervous?  It's not as if I've actually **hurt** her yet._  He brushed off the memory of holding what felt like a delicate wrist in a tight grip and the near-desperate plea of a woman who found herself trapped.  That had been different.  That had been business.  He'd had plenty of opportunities to shoot or hit her, and he hadn't.  Surely semantics had to count for something.  "Most people actually _try to be quiet when they're trying to enter a room unnoticed, niña.  And other people, when they're afraid of disturbing someone when entering a room, either don't come in or they announce their presence."_

   _Hello!  Bare feet on the floor.  If that's not announcing my presence, I don't know what is, because I certainly know that you can hear me.  Still a bit irritable from her lack of sleep and anxious over the news she carried, Tess was not in the best of moods.  But rather than reply so rudely when she knew that's the response her patient was angling for, she simply said, "The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began.  Now far ahead the road is gone and I must follow if I can.  Pursuing it with weary feet until it joins some larger way, where many paths and errands meet – and whether then, I cannot say."_

   Tiredly, Sands asked, "What does that mean?"  He wondered if she ever spoke in anything other than quotes and riddles, and if she didn't, then what had led her to speak like a madwoman.  He had met people with personality quirks before – had met some extremely peculiar people in the course of his work – but this woman left them all in her dust.  An absentminded hermitess that took in strays and dangerous men alike out of what appeared to be guilt, although he couldn't figure out what she had to be guilty about.  _Other than her apparent abundance of naïveté.  But that's hardly a crime punishable by death._

   Stopping just out of reach of the man on the bed, Tessa replied, "That means that I'm tired, I've been working since this morning with no end of work in sight, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing after this.  After today."  Her eyes started to gaze right through Sands as she continued in a lost voice, "I can feel the paths in front of me, but I can't see them.  I know I need to go somewhere but I don't know where or how to get there.  Circumstances demand action, but I can't make up my mind over what action to take.  One decision leads into another, but how can I make many decisions when all I can see is the present?"  She laughed bitterly, wondering why she was telling this man this.  She needed to confide in someone, and instead of calling Logan back, she was telling a man who didn't know her and most likely didn't care about her beyond what she could do for him.  _What I can do for him.  "Men at some time are masters of their fates; the fault, dear Brutus, is not in the stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings."_

   The laugh of a delighted infant brought Tessa back to herself, back to the room that she shared with a man who couldn't see her and most likely thought she was loosing her mind.  He was half right; she had lost her mind ever so long ago, even before the schizophrenia had made itself known.  "Don't mind me.  My problems are not yet yours, and I'll do what I can to keep that from being a lie."

   Sands heard the loneliness in Tessa's voice, but pushed it aside.  So what if she was lonely?  Everyone was lonely.  If she wanted someone to talk to, let her get a cat like normal people did.  "Was there a reason you came in here?"

   "Believe it or not, there was."  The blind CIA agent heard the rattle of a tray as it was set down on the nightstand by the bed.  "I thought we might try getting some food down you before I have to start giving you nutrients by IV.  Do you think your stomach can handle some soup?  If it can, we'll try some solids this evening."

   She had a point.  As much as Sands hated being treated like an invalid, he had to admit that up until this point the pain he had been feeling had been making his stomach queasy.  It wasn't a new sensation; he had once broken his collarbone and hadn't been able to eat anything other than club crackers for three days.  Of course, he had refused to take the painkillers, too.  With the painkillers that Tessa had talked him into taking the night before still in his system, he thought that he might be able to keep some soup down.  It certainly smelled good.  "I was beginning to wonder if you were trying to starve me."

   "No, just saving the both of us the ordeal of having to deal with a stomach under active revolt."  Tess picked up the bowl of soup in one hand and touched the back of Sands' right hand with the other.  When he raised it, she carefully touched the side of the bowl to the palm of his hand.  Making sure that he wasn't about to dump the liquid over them both, Tess picked up the spoon and placed it in his other hand.  She looked up just in time to see Sands smile.  "Que?  Que es comico?"

   Sands shook his head and simply said, "Just wishing for a third hand.  You have no idea how many uses a third arm can have."  His response left Tess confused.

Half an hour later, Sands was no longer smiling and Tess was wondering if her (extremely sketchy) plan was going to work.  It hadn't taken Sands long to figure out that eating soup was not the easiest thing to do when one was newly blinded and was not sitting at a table.  Tess, to her credit, had not offered to spoon feed him.  If she had, he would have thrown the soup at her, whether she deserved it or not.  The woman had, however, eventually taken the bowl from him when the amount of soup on him had exceeded the amount still in the bowl.  She had murmured something that had probably been an apology, since that seemed to be what she enjoyed saying the most.  He hadn't quite caught what she had said, but had been grateful for the napkin she had thrown on his chest as she had left the room.  Minutes later she had returned and handed him a heavy earthenware mug filled with more soup.  After that, his meal had proceeded ever so much more smoothly.  However, he still smelled of chicken soup.

   _Ok, time to move onto the next step.  "Umm . . . I was thinking that you might want to . . . uh . . . clean up?"_

   "Was that an offer to climb into the shower with me to scrub my back?"

   "No señor.  You can't take a shower, not with those stitches.  I'd prefer to keep them dry for the time being."  Tess had to admire his persistence at acting like a hormonal teen, but was glad that his innuendoes were so obvious and easy to brush off.  _If he knew who I really was, who my father was, he wouldn't touch me with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole . . . and that's without knowing I'm nuts._  "I was thinking more along the lines of a sponge bath and a thorough washing of your hair.  There's still blood in it."

   "Ooh, even better.  _La bonita chiquita is offering me a sponge bath.  I'm not sure life gets any better than this.  Aside from being able to watch it, of course."_

    "Mmm."  Tess shook her head in private disbelief and glanced around the room.  "Life may not get better, but it does get worse.  I'm afraid that you're perfectly capable of giving yourself a sponge bath."

   "You are no fun whatsoever, you know that?" Sands complained as Tess took his arm and helped him out of the bed.  He weaved and wavered once upright, and she had to work to keep them both from falling to the floor.  As they staggered towards the bathroom, Sands said, "You might have to reconsider your position on helping out."

   Looking up from her study of the floor passing under her moving feet, Tessa studied his face and was surprised at how pale he was.  He had seemed healthy enough, except for the lack of nutrients and slight effects from blood loss, but the expression on his face was decidedly unhealthy.  "Headache, upset stomach, or various pains in your extremities?"

   "Headache."  How long ago had he lost his eyes?  It seemed like weeks, but it had only been twenty-four hours, and 'headache' didn't even start to describe the pounding in his head.  And his legs were loudly reminding him that they had recently been filled with lead.

   "Your stomach isn't upset?"  Tess really didn't want to have to deal with vomit.  Her own head and stomach were complaining, albeit not as loudly as they had that morning.  But if she had to cleanup a mess, she was liable to lose her own lunch.

   "A bit, but I think that's a secondary effect."  God, when had he become so docile?  When had he decided to actually depend on this woman?  He hated to appear weak before anyone.  But even he had to admit that Tess wasn't the worse person to let nurse him back to health.  She managed to help without making him feel as if he were completely incompetent, supported without knocking his equilibrium off-balance.  He got the distinct impression that she would be happy to let him do as much on his own as he could, and only stuck around to make sure that he didn't undo any of her previous handiwork.  "So, about that sponge bath . . . ."

   "You are such a pig.  You do realize that, right?" she asked dryly.

   "Absolutely.  Self-absorbed bastard, that's me."  There was a distinct lack of remorse in this statement.

   _Why was I expecting differently?  Oh, that's right, he keeps confusing me.  "Alright, but this is going to stay G-rated, you got that 'Giovanni?'"  _

   "You've crushed all my hopes and dreams.  My reason for living is destroyed."  Sands was discovering how much fun it was to annoy the heck out of Tessa.  This was the first time he had managed to find a topic that had actually managed to do it.  Sure, some of his earlier attempts had produced some kind of reaction, but they paled in comparison to how she was responding now.  Gone were the cool responses, the studied indifference of the past two days; her voice was getting dryer by the moment.  Any moment now and she would have to drink something to re-hydrate herself.

   "I doubt I've crushed anything other than your fragile male ego."  Tess wasn't sure why she was playing along with this.  She knew that she was responding awkwardly, unsure of what she was doing or how to play this game.  The flirtatious advances of the college boys she had known had been easy to ignore – this man was playing on a totally different level though.  It was like the difference between pulling a splinter out of someone's finger and setting a compound fracture.

   And then there was the added complication of the man's character.  Yes, he was cute enough for some good-natured, going-nowhere flirting (had she known what she was doing), but he was not a nice person.  He was the kind of man who wouldn't have second thoughts if he decided he had to kill her.  **_That doesn't fit with what you saw yesterday.  When you saw Marcos asleep at his side._**  The words of her voice were suppressed by her medications, but Tess could feel it trying to speak – knew that if it could have made itself understood, that's what it would have said.

   Ignoring the battle her mind was trying to start about the character of the man at her side, Tess maneuvered them both into the bathroom.  Now was not the time to argue over temperament, disposition, or moral fiber.  

   Making sure that her patient was sitting down and out of danger of falling flat on his face, Tess turned on the bathroom taps, waiting for the water to heat up.  Once it had warmed to the point where she would have considered taking a shower in it herself – if it weren't for the new bullet wound in her arm, of course – Tess plugged the sink and waited for it to fill.  As she waited, she got a clean washrag and a fresh bar of soap out of the cabinet next to the shower.  Turning back to the sink just in time to stop it from overflowing, Tess submerged both rag and soap in the warm water.

   Wringing out the piece of cloth, Tessa thought, _Ok, here comes the hard part.  You can do this.  Just take deep breaths and stay calm.  It's that simple.  No one is going to hurt you.  He's not going to hurt you.  He's already had better chances to do so, and nothing came of them._  She glanced at the wrist that had found itself imprisoned in an unbreakable grip the day before; it had a sickly green bracelet of bruised skin surrounding it.  _Still . . . he could have done worse._  The memory of a hand holding hers as spasms of pain caused it to flinch only fueled the conflict inside her.  How was she supposed to relate the two different sides of this man to each other?  What did the side that spoke so casually of death and killing have to do with the side that leaned on her shoulders and let a little boy rest next to him?  In the past Tess had been hurt by people stronger than her, and because of that, she didn't like becoming physically close to people she felt were a threat.  Tessa knew that this man could hurt her . . . but he hadn't.  Not really.  _What can I do?  He needs me to help him and I promised us both that I would do what I can.  It's only just that I do what I can to see him whole, even if it does mean putting myself in danger.  But I don't think he's going to hurt me.  Not now at least._  Conflict resolved, she approached the man and asked, "So, where do you want to start?"

Sands tensed as he felt the warm, rough cloth begin wiping over his cheekbones.  He thought he had managed to hide his apprehension before the blasted woman had noticed, but he hadn't.  She noticed, and her touch became even gentler.  The woman noticed every freakin' thing.  It was no surprise that she had gone into medicine – she obviously had a nurturing character.  Sands thought she was probably the type of woman who would have been perfectly content to stay home and cook for her man, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.  The kind of woman who would cradle and caress her lover until all the stresses of the day left his body . . . the kind of woman who took quiet joy in sex.  Not that he had ever known anyone like that.  It was dangerous to know women like that, because they could make a man believe that he could live a normal lifestyle when he wanted nothing like that at all.

   The cloth distracted him from his thoughts as it ran down his chin and neck and over his shoulders, the heat and moisture doing their best to both clean and relax at the same time.  When the material left his skin, he almost missed it.  Out of all the things that had happened to him recently, this was actually a pleasant ordeal.  Not that he planned or was in any condition to take things further (to his disappointment).  Sands was willing to take what pleasure he could from this and store it up against the pain that was sure to start again sooner or later.

   As Tess worked the cloth down and over his body, Sands could feel his muscles relaxing, the pounding in his head backing off.  He nearly groaned in relief as the quality of the darkness he saw changed in some indefinable way, as it became lighter in some sort of sense – less opaque.  If only this was all it would take to make the pain and the smothering darkness stay away . . . 

At some point during what she had sworn was going to stay a G-rated mission of mercy, Tess found herself flushing.  It wasn't everyday that she found herself in such close proximity with nearly naked men.  And it certainly wasn't every day that she found herself bathing said nearly naked men.  Normally she had a member of the man's family around who could perform this chore, but that wasn't an option now.  She didn't even know if this man had family that should be contacted.  _I really should have thought about that earlier.  What if he has a family around somewhere awaiting news of his safety?_  Inside, Tessa doubted this.  Men like "Giovanni" didn't usually for close relationships with anyone other than _maybe_ a close friend or two.  If she was correct, he was borderline psychotic, but psychological assessments had never been her forté.  "Señor, I should have asked this before, but is there anyone you would like to call?  Anyone who should know that you are safe?"  The questioned helped take her mind off of her uneasiness.

   With an expressionless face, he answered, "You mean, is there a young wife and baby waiting anxiously to find out if I'm alive?  If there're loving parents waiting at home to have me over for dinner and hear all about my adventures in Mexíco?"  He snorted.  "No.  At the moment I'd rather have people believe I'm dead, if it's all the same to you."

   _Well, that answers that question.  "What about an employer?"_

   "No."  The lack of expression on Sands face was replaced by deadly seriousness.  Tess didn't fig any farther and decided to combat her discomfort another way.  Silently she started reciting the poem of the Jabberwocky.  The nonsense of the words had always comforted her for some reason.  _"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!/The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!/Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun/the frumious Bandersnatch!/He took his vorpal sword in hand . . ."  What's a vorpal sword?_

   Lost in her own thoughts, Tess was surprised when Sands interrupted her somewhere around his knees.  "So, what do you look like?"

   Distrustful of his motivations behind asking, she replied, "If I answer that, are you going to ask me to tell you what I'm wearing next?"

   The corner of Sands' mouth twitched as if he were trying to hold back a smile.  "Cool your jets, sweetie.  I'm just curious."

   "Mmm.  What's with the constant change of pet names?"

   "Variety is the spice of life.  Are you going to answer my question?"

   "What do you think I look like?"

   "I think you're someone's sixty-year-old grandmother who resembles a piece of jerky more than the fresh young girl she used to be.  I think your face has more lines than an improperly folded roadmap, and –"

   Interrupting him, Tess said dryly, "I think I get the point."

   There were about ten seconds of silence, before he inquired, "So, was I close?"

   Tess waited several moments before saying, "'Tis an old saying, the Devil lurks behind the cross.  All is not gold that glitters.  From the tail of the plow, Bamba was made King of Spain; and from his silks and riches was Rodrigo cast to be devoured by the snakes."  Shaking her head, she said less cryptically, "Appearances can be deceiving, but if that's what you want me to look like, that's what I look like."

   Somewhere around the point when she was gently toweling Sands' newly-cleaned hair, Tess commented, "There's one way that you could find out."

   "Find out what?"

   "What I look like."

   "Why, _chiquita, was that a proposition?"_

   "No."

   "Then what are you talking about?"  He was getting really sick of asking her that question.

   Biting her lip as she offered up a silent prayer for her safety, Tess slowly replied, "I mean that there might be a way for you to see what I look like.  Without using your hands."  She waited for his reaction, prepared to jump away if he misinterpreted what she meant and took a swing at her.

   Nothing.  Out in the living room, her clock rang the hour.  ­­_-Bong, bong, bong-  Tess was surprised to find out that she had been in the same room with this man, touching him, caring for him for over an hour.  It didn't seem as if things had taken that long, but then again, her grip on reality and time wasn't a sure as some people's.  That's why she had a clock she could hear throughout the entire house._

   Still silence.  Tess hung the damp towel over the door of the shower stall and nervously walked over to the sink to drain the water from it.  Feeling enclosed all of a sudden, she looked up into the mirror and jumped when she found her patient standing less than a foot behind her.  _God, he moves quietly.  She put a hand to her racing heart as the man asked in a low, dangerous tone, "What the hell do you mean there's a way for me to see that you look like?"  Tess swallowed._

"There's one way that you could find out."  Sands found himself once again wondering just what path her thoughts took before they made it out her mouth.

   "Find out what?"

   "What I look like."

   "Why, _chiquita, was that a proposition?"_

   "No."

   "Then what are you talking about?"  Sands was beginning to wonder what was so different about her cognitive process that made nearly everything that came out of her mouth sound like the prophesy of an oracle.

   "I mean that there might be a way for you to see what I look like.  Without using your hands."  He waited for the rest, sure that there she had some kind of pep talk waiting to complete this disastrous turn of the conversation, but she said nothing else.  He waited: the clock chimed, Tess moved around, water drained noisily down some pipes.  Was she going to leave it at that?  Was this some kind of twisted attempt to make things seem "not quite as bad as they appeared"?  Whatever it was, he wasn't amused.

   Making sure to stand up and take the few steps towards her with all the silence he still possessed, Sands managed to get right behind Tess before she noticed how close to her he was.  He heard her jump.  Heard the small gasp that escaped her as she spun and turned to face him.  If he had felt like being amused anymore, he would have laughed, the sounds she made painted such a vivid comic picture.  Unfortunately, he wasn't amused.  "What the hell do you mean there's a way for me to see that you look like?"  She didn't answer.  Deciding to push a little further, Sands continued, "In case you hadn't noticed or had managed to forget, let me remind you of one little fact."  Leaning forward, he placed a hand on each side of her body, trapping her against the sink – unless she had managed to move as quietly as he did, in which case he was striking a rather tragic pose.  "I . . . have . . . no . . . eyes."

   "Ye-" the word didn't make it out of Tessa's mouth before her throat closed and she ended up choking on her own saliva.  Coughing, she turned back to sink, not wanting to shower the man before her in spit.  Breathing through her nose to contain the explosions, she managed to calm her protesting lungs to the point where she could once again speak.  "Yes.  I did notice."

   "Then what are you talking about, _niña_?  Or was that an incredibly ill-conceived attempt at humor?"

   She really should have made a bit more of a plan before broaching this subject.  "Well, you see," she cringed.  Hurrying on, she rambled, "I got a call from a friend this morning.  It was a guy I went to med school with, one of the few I've managed to keep in contact with.  But while I went into what is jokingly referred to as 'private practice,' he had always been more interested in the research and development side of things.  To make a long story short, or at least shorter, he ended up at a medical firm in Los Angeles with nothing more than what most of the medical community considered a crackpot idea.  But apparently the man who hired him didn't think so.  So anyway, I got a call from my friend this morning and he tells me that his idea, which had been successful in trials on rats, pigs, and a chimpanzee who had had an accident, he called and told me that he had gotten permission from the FDA to start human trials.  And he called me because he was excited, not that he knew that you were here, but I thought that you might be interested in meeting him and talking to him, and listening to his ideas."

   Sands backed away from Tessa when he heard the panic and innate goodwill in her voice.  She had no idea how to explain things so the majority of the population could understand what she was talking about, but she hadn't been mocking him or trying to patronize him.  That was what was important.  Once again sitting on the toilet, he said wearily, "While I'm sure that spiel had some kind of meaning to you, I'm afraid you left out any information that might clue me into what you're talking about."

   Had she?  Tess couldn't even remember the entirety of what she had just said.  When she had found that Sands had so effectively sneaked up on her and that he was angry and capable of controlling her movements, she had panicked.  It was gut reaction, nothing more.  And while she had probably made a fool of herself, at least he wasn't angry at her anymore.  "I'm sorry.  You just made me a little nervous."

   "_A little nervous," he thought, finding her words woefully inadequate.  __If she had been any more tense she would have shot through the ceiling like a cartoon cat who'd gotten her tail singed, or taken off like that feline that Pépé le Pew was always chasing.  "I'm still in the dark, __chiquita."_

   "I know.  I mean, I didn't mean that.  I meant that I was about to give a better explanation."  Crap, her nerves will still on edge.  "What I meant to say was that this friend of mine has developed a new technique for eye transplants.  And that he has gotten permission from the government to start human trials.  He's going to be looking for volunteers.  And I thought of you."

   Silence once again reigned supreme in the small bathroom.

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**Quotes for this chapter:** man, I managed to pack a whole bunch in this one.  In the order of their appearance they are from: Tolkien; Julius Caesar by Shakespeare; "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" by Dr. Seuss; Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll; Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes; and such a small one that it might as well not count from PotC.

**Author's Thanks: **thanks and many thanks go out to my loyal readers/reviewers **Merrie and **Ashley**.  **Merrie**, you've reviewed every chapter, and **Ashley,** you reviewed even though you let me know what you like and think when you beta for me.  That is dedication my friend.  : )  Thanks also go to ****Blank and **kinkyfrodo,** my two new reviewers for the last chapter.  You guys have no idea how much your reviews are appreciated, treasured, and multiply read.  I hope to hear from you again soon.**


	15. Could Sands be Put Back Together Again

**Author's Note: sorry to leave you all on the edge for so long, but I was fighting with Sands over how he was feeling.  I wanted to know, he wouldn't tell me, and I had to threaten to replace all his lovely cigarettes with herbal substitutes.  And once I could see out of my left eye again, he finally gave in.  Not sure how well I managed to translate his thoughts though . . . .**

**Author's thanks, as always, at the end. (YEA!  Y'all help me hit 50 reviews!)**

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The silence was as oppressive as the stagnant air of a humid summer day.  Tess was fighting hard against her survival instincts that were demanding that she run.  There was too much of the predator in her patient; she was afraid that if she ran, he'd come after her, never mind all that was wrong with him.  _Deep breaths, deep breaths.  Stay calm.  "He took his vorpal sword in hand:/Long time the manxome foe he sought – /So he rested by the Tumtum tree,/And stood awhile in thought."  No, no.  Focus.  She still stood by the sink, watching the man who sat across the room, ready to bolt like a frightened rabbit should he give any sign of lashing out._

   Nothing.  Minutes went by, perhaps even hours, as they stayed unmoving in their own private tableau. _-Taptaptap, taptaptap, taptaptap-  Tessa's fingers rang out an agitated rhythm against the porcelain without her notice or direction.  All of her efforts were concentrated on keeping her own "manxome foe" at bay while she dealt with reality.  Later she would be able to collapse into a puddle and recover from the tension this issue had created.  __But if it worked, if he could see again . . ._

   The clock in her living room struck the half-hour.  Had that much time already passed since she had broached the subject of transplants with her guest?  _I thought time was only supposed to fly when you were having fun, she thought distractedly._

   "Señora Tessa?"  Tess turned from her half-hypnotized study of her patient to find Alma in the doorway to the bathroom.

   "Yes, Alma.  What is it?"  Even as she asked the question, Tess knew what the problem was, having finally heard the thin wails of  an unhappy baby coming from the living room.

   "I think Lena needs to be changed."  

   The girl was watching them curiously, aware that something was wrong but unsure what or who had caused it.  The look on her face made it clear that she was uncomfortable – that the tension in the air was making her just as tense as the two adults.  Tess didn't question this – it's how she would feel if she had suddenly lost her home and the stranger she was dependent on was acting strangely.  _And I'm not exactly helping her feel secure by just standing around like a lackwit.  Children can only feel safe if the adults they're around make them feel safe.  If she's uncomfortable, it's my fault.  So, fix the problem.  Do something that will take her mind off all the strange things going on in this house._

   "I'll be right there, Alma."  The girl nodded and scampered off, apparently only too glad to escape the room.  Tess wished she could leave just as easily, but knew she couldn't.  She couldn't leave until she knew what her patient's state of mind was – until she knew whether or not she had made things any worse by her unstructured rambling.  _But how do you tell someone who's lost their eyes that they can gain a new set, but only if they volunteer for experimental surgery?  There's not exactly greeting cards for that sort of thing._  Ignoring her inner doubts and conversations for the moment, Tess worked up the courage to address her guest.  Doing her best to infuse her voice with all the calm she could muster, Tess quietly said, "Señor?  If you like, I can – "

   "What I'd like you to do is go look after those brats and leave me the hell alone."

   Tess was taken aback by the vehemence in the man's voice.  He still sat on the closed toilet lid, his shoulders slumped and his head tilted forward, but his voice transmitted barely-contained rage.  For the first time Tess wondered if his silence had less to do with shock and more to do with the urge to cause her bodily harm.

   The thought was too much for her fragile peace of mind.  Walking backwards so that she could keep Sands in her vision, Tess backed out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.  Once in the bigger room, she paused, unsure whether she should stay and try to make amends, or if she should do as her commonsense was demanding and run for her life.

   "I don't hear you running, señorita."

   Tess quickly left the room, refusing in this last moment to give him the satisfaction of hearing her flee.

Sands remained in the cramped bathroom for several minutes after Tess left him.  His head was pounding so severely that his entire body echoed with the throbs.  He was hanging to control by a thread, slowly convincing himself that he couldn't simply kill people for being stupid.  Stupid and arrogant?  Yes.  Stupid and clumsy?  Sure.  Stupid and treacherous?  Absolutely.  But Tess was none of those qualifiers – she was merely stupid.  Or perhaps stupid and too compassionate for her own good.

   **_Then again, maybe she's just trying to justify moving you to another location for her profit – trying to keep you from becoming suspicious over a sudden road trip.  You have only her word that she didn't meet up the with cartel last night.  Perhaps she did and now she's been instructed to take the nosy, incompetent, blind American elsewhere._**

_   No._  Sands refused to give into his paranoiac nature.  It was better to think things through than to blindly believe what the darker, more cynical part of his mind tried to tell him.  _That doesn't fit in with any of her previous actions.  The cartels would be just as happy with a dead body as with an injured, breathing, interfering bastard.  It'd save them the time and hassle of killing me.  No, she's not the type to betray anyone.  If she told me about her 'friend' and his miracle procedure, it was with good intentions._

_   **Yeah, well, the road to hell is lined with good intentions.**_

****_I'm already in hell._

_   **Then why are you so upset over the possibility that she might be telling the truth?**_

   Sands had no answer for that.  He didn't know why he was upset.  Just that he was.  _God, my head hurts._  That settled it.  This was no time for introspection – that could wait until his head stopped feeling as if it were a ball being used for the NBA playoffs.  A draft blew through the room, raising goose bumps on his arms and chest.  _Right, getting dressed might be a good idea._  Truthfully, now that he thought about it, he _wanted to change his clothes.  He was afraid that if he stayed in this same pair of boxers any longer, they'd graft themselves onto his skin and he'd never be rid of them._

   Making his way out of the bathroom, leaning on the wall as he went, he tried to remember where he'd heard Tess set down his suitcase earlier in the day.  She hadn't been in the room for long, and he hadn't felt like letting her know that he was awake.  It had been too much of an effort to talk at the time.  Besides, it was a longstanding habit of his to gather more information than he shared anyway.  So he had laid in her bed and listened as she had set down a case, just as he had listened as she muttered to herself about what she should do.  It had seemed as if she was leery of waking him, but wanted to find out more about him – or at least that what he had understood from her one-sided conversation of muttered Spanish.  _Someone has been living by themselves for a little too long,_ he had thought to himself, knowing that if she tried to pry into his business he'd have to speak up or something.  But in the end, _la niña had let him and his belongings be.  "But where was she standing?"  Memories weren't much good if one couldn't learn anything from them._

   After much deliberation, Sands decided that Tess had placed his stuff somewhere at the foot of the bed, most likely against the wall so that it wouldn't be underfoot.  So, when he found the medium sized case some five feet away from the bed, he wasn't really surprised.  For a moment he wondered if it was such a good idea to bend over or kneel down, but it had to be risked.  He might let that female help him walk, eat, wash, and even sleep, but he'd be damned if he couldn't manage to get himself dressed.

   Carefully and laboriously, Sands managed to find and dress himself in a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt.  He briefly pondered the possibility of also donning a pair of shorts, but dismissed the idea.  His head was spinning, his legs were shaking, and it was too hot anyway.  _What is this? he briefly wondered.  _I thought it was November around here – not the fucking Forth of July._  Getting back to the bed, he settled into the pillows that Tess had piled up to keep his head elevated.  He hated the how it was necessary for him to spend long periods of time in indefensible unconsciousness, but knew that without sleep it would take longer for his body to heal.  And healed was what he was going to have to be before he decided where and do next._

Tessa spent the rest of her day tending to the children.  For a short time after leaving Sands and changing Lena, she had tried to dig some of the bullets from the driver's side back door of her car; it was a pointless exercise.  All she could tell was that whatever gun had fired the bullets had been incredibly powerful and the shooters had been elevated.  The bullets had gone right through the car door, through the seat and, as far as she could tell, through the car itself.  But she might be wrong; the bullets could be lodged in the chassis.  Tess supposed she should be glad that none had hit the gas tank, but she was too irritated at her lack of information to care.  When people were shooting at her, she generally like to know what organization they were from and why they wanted her dead.

   The bullets she had found in the alley hadn't been much help either.  They were typical of what she would expect to find after a military coup: cheap, numerous, and able to be loaded into more than one weapon.  _So what?  That leaves Marquez' army, half the police force, and anyone on the street that can afford a rifle.  Nothing.  It was around four o'clock when she had decided this with bitterness. _Once again, Teresa Adame, brilliant student yet all-around disappointment has collected useless items in her search for knowledge._  René was asleep on her left side and Alma was leaning on her right while Lena slept on a blanket on the floor and Marcos read a Hardy Boys book in English.  Tess had stopped her self flagellation in order to admire the boy for his persistence.  Yesterday he had come here seeking refuge, and today he was continuing on in his quest to learn English.  She ought to be ashamed of herself for sitting here on her bum in self-pity._

   "Señora Tessa?"

   Tess had turned her head to look at the girl.  "Yes, Alma?"

   "I'm bored."

   _And desperate for distraction if the look in her eyes is any indication.  The poor kid was trying to be strong like her older brother, but the death of her parents had hit her hard, as was to be expected.  Tess knew that sometimes there were things just too horrible to think about until time had passed, and was willing to keep the girl busy for as long as she had activities to offer.  "Want to bake some cookies with me?"  The hottest part of the day was over, the temperature falling promptly with the coming of night.  They wouldn't get heat exhaustion if they turned on the stove now, and there were few things that comforted like cookies fresh out of the oven._

   Alma had immediately agreed with the suggestion, and the next hour saw them spilling flour and cutting out cookie dough figures.  Tess would have encouraged the snatching of cookie dough if they were in America – where food quality standards were a bit higher –  but didn't quite trust food that hadn't been thoroughly cooked here.  The last thing she needed was for her or one of the children to get e.coli.  

   Five o'clock came and went and when dinner time rolled around and the macaroni and cheese she had picked up was ready, she looked around for the other kids.  Alma had been devotedly helping her prepare the meal.  Selena was in the corner playing with some cheap plastic blocks that Tess had bought at the store.  René was busy eating cookies and coloring with the markers she had gotten him.  But she couldn't seem to find Marcos.  After checking the living room and the porch, she decided to check the bedroom that he was sharing with his siblings.  As she walked down the hall, Tess heard voices coming from her bedroom.  _Unless 'Giovanni' is talking to himself, I'd say it's a safe bet that Marcos isn't in the other bedroom._  Just to make sure, Tess did poke her head in, but the room was empty.

   Carefully making sure that she walked as silently as she could, Tess approached the open door to her bedroom.  Peeking her head around the corner, she saw that Marcos was sitting on the stool she had left by the bed, leaning against the bed, while her patient apparently listened.  She stayed standing still for several minutes, listening as Marcos slowly and studiously made his way through several sentences, his English understandable but accented.  Eventually, he hit a word that puzzled him.  Watching his face carefully, Tess smiled as he made a face and silently tried to sound out the word.

   "Señor?  What does b-o-r-o-u-g-h spell?"

   To Tessa's amazement, Sands replied in a voice that was only mildly caustic, and if she had to bet, she'd say the harshness was caused by pain, not by irritation caused by his young visitor.

   "But what is a . . . a borough?  Is it a donkey?"

   Tess smiled again, glad that Marcos had caught onto the similar sounding words.  He was a smart boy, and she would be happy to see that he got the education he needed.  One way or another, she would see he and his family provided for.  _That's something I need to give some serious thought to._

   "You can come out of hiding, niña."  Tess brought her attention back to the room's occupants to find Marcos watching her and Sands laying calmly, reclining against the pillows she had scrounged from around the house and lazily smoking a cigarette, his fingers holding the small roll of tobacco gracefully.

   She shuffled her feet nervously, embarrassed to be caught observing the pair.  "Marcos, go wash up.  Dinner's ready."

   The boy got up to comply, glancing back at his chosen friend before looking back at her.  From the look on his face, she'd have to guess that Alma had been spreading tales.  Knowing that he probably didn't like the thought of having his two adult friends at odds, Tess smiled reassuringly, and tilted her head towards the bathroom connected to her room, giving him permission to use it.  He nodded, set his book down on the nightstand, and went to do as he was bid.  Tess simply stood where she was in the doorway and waited for him.

   "What's wrong niña?  Afraid I'm corrupting your young charge?"

   Tess swallowed, unsure of what she was supposed to say – so she fell back on habit.  "In every American there is an air of innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning."

   The corner of Sands' mouth twitched as if he were amused before he replied, "And thus I clothe my naked villainy with odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ; and seem a saint, when most I play the devil."  

   "Señor?"  Tess sounded confused.

   "Shakespeare."  He thought he was finally starting to understand Tess; whenever she was at a loss for what to say, or was nervous, or surprised, she resorted to quotes to either cover what she was really thinking or express it in a way that she couldn't.  The odd tidbits of literature seemed to help her bring order to her thoughts.  Now the question was, why did she need so much help?  What motivated her massive amounts of memorization?

   "That's not what I wanted to know, señor.  I was wondering if you would like to get up for a bit.  Laying in bed all day will make your wounds stiff and your muscles weak.  If it doesn't hurt too much, I think that it would be a good idea for you to get up and walk around for a few minutes."

   Marcos emerged from the bathroom just in time to hear this suggestion.  His face lit up and he eagerly said, "Sí, señor.  Come join us for dinner."

   _Ok, that's not quite what I had in mind . . . Tess thought as Marcos went over to the bed and took the man's hand.  As she watched, she assumed that Sands would refuse – that he might lash out with that acid tongue of his – but he didn't.  He allowed Marcos to pull him up out of the bed, and even allowed the boy to guide him out of the room._

   Tessa followed them from the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen, all the while trying to understand what she was seeing.  It was almost as if there was too much cognitive dissonance in what she was seeing for her mind to grasp it.  Why would such a hard man treat a boy he barely knew with this amount of mildness?  What was the relationship that spurred the gentleness between the two?  Marcos had a good heart; that explained why he had befriended this companionless man.  

   _But what's "Giovanni's" reason?  Exploitation?  That didn't make sense.  If Sands just wanted to use the boy for what he could do for him, then he would be ignoring Marcos by now because Tess could do more for the man than the boy could.  __Pity?  Again, Tess had to discard the idea.  If what Marcos told her was true – and if she could believe the evidence of her own eyes – this strange relationship had been forged moments after the cartel had let their toy go.  Sands had no reason to pity the boy then.  But now that Marcos' parents were dead?  __What if the bond was first encouraged by exploitation, due to "Giovanni's" blindness, and then . . . and then . . . .  Why am I worrying about this now?_

**_   . . . jealous . . ._**  The thought was weak but understandable, which didn't bother Tess.  Danger came when the voice threatened to take over her will and common sense.

_   That's ridiculous.  What have I to be jealous about?  No.  It's just that the better I understand him, the better I'll be able to help him._  The voice was silent, as if reserving judgment for a time when it had collected more evidence against her.

Dinner had been tense, and Tess knew that it was her fault.  Faced with the enigma that was her patient, she had become withdrawn and consumed with fighting misplaced irritation.  The day had started badly and from all indications, it was going to end on the same note.  But they had all gotten through the meal without injury and the children had dispersed to entertain themselves.  Well, Lena had fallen asleep and been put down for the night, but the two older children had involved René in a card game that made no sense to Tessa, but they seemed to be enjoying it.

   _I'm glad that someone in this house is having fun, she thought wearily as she walked by her patient's side as he made his second loop around the small house.  _At least I know why physical therapy never appealed to me._  It was boring and semi-degrading to follow a man who ignored her existence around her own house.  The only time she had even offered any help was in the first five or ten minutes when his muscles had been so stiff that they kept locking up on him.  Now, although he might be moving slowly, it was with a certain amount of grace.  And silence._

   "Okay, I think that's about enough for tonight," Tess said as she observed that his steps were growing a bit more uncertain.  "When we get back to the hallway, let's go back to the bedroom."

   "So eager, chiquita.  All I can ask is that you be gentle with me – I'm wounded."  Sands heard the woman at his side breath deeply, as if she were trying to absorb patience along with the air.  "Impatient?"

   "Yes, but not because you're driving me out of my mind with lust."

   "Pity.  What is driving you out of your mind?"

   "Nothing you need to be concerned with."  Tess laid a hand on her patient's shoulder blade to guide him around a pile of toys in the hallway.  "Now, I want you on the bed where I can check on those stitches."

   Sands complied, holding in a breath of relief as he was able to take his weight off his legs.  For the last few feet there, he had been unsure of whether or not he'd be able to actually make it to the bed.  He'd love to despise himself for the lack of strength, but he knew that bullet wounds were painful and extremely slow to heal. He was lucky that he had stayed on his feet for as long as he had.  _In another couple of days I should be ready to leave,_ he thought as he felt Tess carefully remove the cotton she had kept wrapped around his limbs for the past two days.

   **_Leave?  Where do you have to go?_**

****_I haven't figured that part out yet._

   "Nice shirt."

   "What?"

   "Your shirt.  It says, 'Sayings on t-shirts suck.'"  He felt cool fingers folding his sleeve back.  "So, I'm guessing that you were able to find your suitcase."

   "Umm . . ." Her touch was distracting.  It was too light.  He understood that she didn't want to hurt him, but having her fingers feather over his skin like that was almost disturbing – it brought back the mental image of her as a woman instead of a nonentity that he was currently residing with.  Sands didn't like being forced to see people instead of puzzles.  People had rights – puzzles only existed to be manipulated.

Tess wondered what was running through her patient's head, but didn't spend too much time worrying about it.  Right now she was more focused on the call she was going to get in a few hours.  This morning she had told Logan that she didn't have much time to talk, but the truth was that she had wanted to discuss her idea with 'Giovanni' before talking more with her friend.  So far she had failed miserably in that department.  

   "I think we'll leave the bandages off tonight.  Allow them to get some air."  The holes in her patient's legs were healing well, and the one in his arm was losing the signs of infection that had plagued it earlier.  Tess gave a prayer of thanks that the antibiotics had worked so well.

   "You're the doctor."  To her surprise, there was no sting to the comment, which made Tessa suspect that she was being patronized.

   "I want to take one last look at . . . at your other wounds before we call it a night."  Sands didn't reply, so she assumed that he didn't object too strongly.  She knew he didn't like the idea by the way he set his shoulders, but she didn't have any other choice.  She needed more information, and at the moment the only way for her to get it was by observation.

   Gently, she unwrapped the cotton gauze from around his head, making sure that his hair stayed out of his face.  If a simple brush of her fingers, if the air itself, still caused him pain, she didn't want the strands to get inside and wreak havoc on his nervous system.  She turned on the bedside lamp for a bit more light during her covert inspection.

   "What was that for?"  Sands had heard the small click of a light being switched on.  It was bad enough the woman kept insisting on baring the permanent badges of his failure without having to shine a spotlight on them.

   "I need more light if I'm to tell if all is healing properly, señor."  _Please go along with it.  You may not want to believe it, but there may be hope.  Don't slam the lid to Pandora's box shut before it can escape._  Whether he heard her mental cries or not, Sands made no more protests as she tilted his head towards the lamp.  "I'm going to conduct a little bit of an examination, señor, so please try not to move."  Gently, almost not daring breathe, Tess reached out and ran a light finger over Sands' cheekbone.  He flinched.  "Almost done with this part," she breathed, next running her finger around the bony edge of his eye socket, moving the tip of one finger counter clockwise over his lower temple and up over his brow.  She could hear his breath hitch in his throat and could see his white-knuckled hands gripping the sides of the bed.  _There shouldn't be this much pain if the procedure had been carried out correctly, which means that old Guevara missed something.  But is it enough for Logan to work with?  "Ok, done with that part."_

   She could see his face, could see the unasked, _That part?_  Tess knew he'd rather have her wrap him back up and risk the possibility of infection rather than have her spend more time looking into the gory holes that had once held the mirrors to his soul, but it was necessary to confirm her suspicions.  Guevara had been so incredibly sloppy – probably due to time constraints – and while this was causing more pain than necessary, it might also be a barely credible gift.  _There, she thought as she looked into the pits, _where his optic nerve would have connected to the eye . . . .__

   "So doc, in your professional opinion, if the eyes are indeed the windows of the soul, does a man without eyes still possess a soul?"  Sands could tell the question had caught her off-guard when the hand on the side of his face twitched.  "Of course, now we're assuming that I had a soul to begin with."

   "Don't say things like that."  Tessa's voice was surprisingly fierce – almost protective.

   _What have I done to make her feel protective of me? he wondered bewilderingly.  "Rile your feathers, did I?"  No answer.  He had asked the idle question merely to take his mind off of the pain that Tessa's little examination was causing, but now he found himself oddly captivated by the topic.  "But this is a serious question.  I mean, without a soul, someone might as well be dead, right?  Or does losing your soul mean you can no longer die?"  He didn't think he could bare an eternity of darkness._

   There was more silence for several minutes, the quality of which made him think that Tess was gathering her thoughts.  Sands thought she would respond, little angel of death that she was, and he wasn't disappointed when she slowly replied, "I've met people without souls, señor."  Her hands left his face as her voice became quiet with contemplation and echoes of private horror.  "Barillo, Ajedrez, Guevara . . . others like them . . . people with no respect for life or guilt for what they do to the living.  When I think of someone as being soulless, I think of them, of the qualities they had: power, influence, tempting figures, persuasive and convicting words, great talent – and all used to the wrong ends.  Gifts twisted and made perverse by greed, corruption, and arrogance."  She let out a breathy laugh, "I knew Celia, Ajedrez' mother.  She was a sweet, gentle woman.  Too gentle for the family she married into. It's the memory of her that makes me sometimes wonder if it was entirely Ajedrez' fault that she ended up the way she did.  Perhaps she had no choice; perhaps the child of a monster has but half of a soul, and that half a soul isn't enough to save anyone.  I wonder if blood and heredity can overwhelm free will and compassion.  And almost every time I come to the conclusion that it can.  But at other times I decide that you can only lose your soul if you stop fighting to keep it."

   Sands hadn't expected this to become a philosophical discussion, but at least it was giving him some insight into the woman.  "If you're right about that, then it's just as well that I lost my eyes – they had nothing to show."

   "NO."  Again, the vehemence in Tessa's voice gave Sands something to think about.  "That pack of jackals that raised me . . . _they_ were soulless, caring only for themselves.  You may think yourself damned, but at least you still care."

   "Ah, now that's where you're wrong, niña.  I don't care."  He had no idea why he was keeping this conversation going, but he was.  Resignedly, he blamed it on the drugs she was giving him; surely this conversation couldn't be an actual search for validation.

   **_That's right . . . why should you care?  Just go settle somewhere in the US and be the perverse blind guy who tries to grope women as they help you cross the street._**

****_And that's what you call a purpose in life?  That's just really sad.  Sands realized that his thoughts were going uninterrupted.  "Niña?"_

   "Yes.  Sorry.  I'm done.  Just let me rewrap your . . . your . . ."  Her voice trailed off and as Sands waited for her to finish, he felt his eyes being covered in cotton once again.  "I'll be out of your hair in a moment, señor."  She was giving up?  For some strange reason, Sands felt cheated.  It had been a long time since he had found someone willing to debate with him things that other people never thought about.  "There.  I'm done.  If you need me . . . if the pain gets too bad, I'll be in the living room.  Just call for me."  And with that she was gone, and Sands was alone.

_-Ring-_  Tess supposed she ought to answer her cell phone.  _-Ring-  The problem was that she didn't want to.  ­__-Ring-  She had spent the last hour or so crying; the last few days had been long and full of suffering for those she knew.  __-Ring-  Marcos and his siblings had lost their parents, her patient had lost his eyes and given up not only on hope but on himself as well, the voice in her head was struggling to feed off the chaos around her and take over . . . .  And she was contemplating something incredibly stupid.  __-Ring-  But mostly her tears had been for the man in her bedroom – for all that he was suffering because of her family, because of her.  __-Ring-  "Hey."  While she had muffled most of her sobs into a pillow, she hadn't tried to contain them.  She had allowed herself to sob herself hoarse so that she could move past the pity and grief.  Those weren't constructive emotions._

   "I didn't think you were going to answer."  The harshness of her voice mush have finally registered, because he asked, "Tessa?  Is something wrong?"  Logan's voice was full of surprise at hearing her sound as if she had been crying.  The woman he knew never cried.

   "Yeah," she whispered, feeling tears threaten again at the concern in his voice.

   "Are you . . ."  How sweet; he was trying to find a tactful way to ask if she were going mad.

   "No.  I've just had a lot to deal with lately."

   "Anything you want to tell me about?"

   "It's nothing that can't wait until I see you."

   "You're coming up to LA?"  The excitement in his voice was undeniable.

   "Yeah, I think I may have a candidate for you.  I just need to convince him of that."

   "How'd you find him?"

   "That's another story that will have to wait.  Tell me more about this technique you've perfected."

Sands stood in the shadows near the entrance to the living room.  He'd been standing there for quite some time now – longer than he cared to admit.  Long enough to hear sobs of despair coming from the couch.  At first he'd thought that one of the children had been having nightmares and had emerged for comforting, but when he'd heard a distinct lack of soothing words, he realized that it was _la chiquita on the couch sobbing her guts out.  For a time he wondered just what she had to cry over, and he'd been about to leave when the cell phone had started to ring.  Deciding that information could be learned here, he had kept his place silently, making sure to lean against the wall so he wouldn't tire himself out too quickly._

   What he overheard was a one-sided medical conversation, full of phrases and questions never heard outside a surgical bay.  From what he could gather, though, his hostess was trying to learn as much about her contact's procedure as she could.  She kept asking question after question, and after about an half an hour she seemed to have heard enough.

   " . . . What?  Oh.  No, I can't tell you how my patient lost his sight.  If he wants to tell you, that's for him to do, not me.  I can tell you what I've observed though . . . . Why not?  Because it violates almost every rule in the medical profession, that's why . . . . No . . . . would you just listen to me?  From what I've seen, almost all his nerves are still intact, even part of the optic nerve is exposed . . . . Yeah . . . . Yeah . . . . That's what I thought you were trying to tell me.  So this drug of yours would first stimulate . . . umm . . . regeneration of the optic nerve and the you'd use the other to help keep the muscles from atrophying.  And then once . . . ."  Sands had heard enough.  He cleared his throat and the conversation stopped.  "Just a moment, Logan."

Tess swallowed as she wondered just how long 'Giovanni' had been standing in the shadows of the doorway.  _The man moves so silently,_ she thought to herself as she fought to make out his form in the gloom.  Earlier Tess had left the lights out because she had felt the slow uncurling of another headache – now she wished she had turned them on to avoid something like this.  "Did you need something, señor, or was I being too loud?"  _Too loud?  **I could barely hear me.  There's no way I woke him up.**_

   Sands ignored the inquiry, walking into the room and stopping in front of her.  Still saying nothing, he held out one hand.  He wanted the phone.  

   For a moment Tess did nothing more than look up at him from her position on the couch.  She supposed that she should have found his posture and foreboding silence intimidating, but she didn't.  The tense feeling in the air that accompanied him when he was upset was missing.  Slowly, hoping that she wasn't doing something incredibly stupid, Tess handed her cell over to him.

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**Quotes: **"Through the Looking Glass" by Lewis Carroll; A.E. Houseman; Insert Title of Play Here­ by Shakespeare.

**Author's Thanks:** first, shout out to my regulars – **Miss Becky **(who ff.n ate her last review ^_^ )**, Merrie (who needs to update soon!)**, Blank, kinkyfrodo, fiondra **(thanks for the quotes!), and **Ashley **my beloved beta (who doesn't really need to review, but does anyway).  Love you all.**

Secondly, many yells of welcome and appreciation to new reviewers **Scarlett**** Burns (go read her fic!)****, Logical Philosophy (I love that name!), **Lunatic **(who wrote such a nice review), **Kim** (who made me laugh), and **Aurelis****** (who also made me laugh.  I wish more people reviewed because they had run out of chapters.).  Gods, I love you all.  ; )**

**A/N 2: Looking for a fic to read between my long updates?  Well, I just made a deal with my friend Sarah (rythmteck) that I'd promo her fic if she did the same for me, even if she does spell her name wrong.  ; )  Anyway, she writes PotC fanfic, if any of you are interested in that.  Our writing styles are REALLY similar (see my bio), so if you're enjoying reading this fic, you should like hers too.  She's got two – 'Inconvenient' (finished) and 'Caught by the Past' (in progress).**

**_ALSO if anyone has quotes they want to send me that they think I might be able to use, _please, please, please E-MAIL_ them to me at see_captain_jack_run@hotmail.com (see my profile).  I'd really like offbeat quotes, or even some genuine Johnny Depp quotes.  That would be cool.  No matter what the topic, I will probably find a spot to use them sooner or later.  Thanks all._**

**Sara**


	16. Conversations

**Author's Note: hope you all had a great holiday.  Don't have much to say except I hope you enjoy reading this, and as always, feedback is appreciated, re-read several times, and put into practice if it includes helpful hints.**

**Author's thanks at the end.**

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Watching Sands out of cautious eyes, Tessa sat up on the couch.  As she had spent most of the night crying, she had become more and more horizontal until she had eventually ended up lying on her back.  Now, she wanted to give her patient somewhere to sit down before he needed it . . . and it was hard to defend one's self while lying down.

   Sands took the spot she had vacated, and she envied him.  She envied that he had heard that she was moving and had been able to tell where she was in space in relation to him without any visual cues; jealous of the way that he so confidently trusted his senses.  More often than not, Tess had to think over whether or not she had heard something, not daring to trust the information her own ears sent her.  They – the voice in her head – had fooled her enough that she was cautious when it came to immediately reacting to audio stimuli.  Her eyes, at least, she could trust, for the time being.  As time went on, it became more and more likely that her schizophrenia would start displaying itself in other areas of her mind.

   As she listened to Sands' conversation with Logan with half a mind, she thought how preposterous it was to be jealous of a man who had lost his sight in a rather gruesome manner.  Her patient would laugh himself sick if he knew what she was thinking.  There was no way in heaven above or hell below that he would think himself gifted in his current state.  Tess – should she ever find herself in his position – would find her grip on reality fraying with each day that passed in darkness.  Without the visual world she would be unable to combat the voice in her head that fought to ring in her ears; she'd lose herself in the dark.

   _How many morbid thoughts can one mind hold before it turns on the person thinking them? she wondered as she leaned against the arm of the couch and hugged her knees to herself.__  How much of my instability is caused by lingering on such thoughts, reveling in darkness of what shouldn't be questioned?  How long can a creature dwell in the depths before adapting so totally that it can't exist anywhere else?  Lena began whimpering in the back room, and glad for the distraction and the excuse to leave, Tessa got up from the couch and went to fetch the infant._

   Walking into the room that the four siblings shared, Tess gently scooped the girl-child up from her make-shift cradle.  While old enough to start crawling around the house, Lena was still too young to sleep through the night without interruption.  None of the other children had stirred at the baby's unhappy mumbles; they were used to sharing a small space with their youngest sister.  Tess, however, was used to living alone and found the quiet whimpers nearly as loud as a shout in the small house.  "What's the matter?  Are you wet?  Not enough light in here to tell."  Carrying the child on her hip, Tess went into her bathroom.  Lena's diaper was clean.  "Hungry then?"  Once again settling the sleepless child against her side, Tess went into the kitchen to fix a bottle of formula.

   As she passed the living room, she noticed that Sands was still on the phone.  His voice was too low for her to hear more than an indistinct murmur.  He didn't appear agitated, but that meant nothing – the man was an expert at hiding reactions that he didn't noticed by others.  _Still, as his current doctor, isn't it my job to keep from getting too agitated?  That would set his progress back, and I don't think that either of us wants to be in this situation for any longer than we have to be.  Lena started fussing again as Tessa slowed to peek into the room.  "Yes, I hear.  You want food.  Just be patient."_

   It was easy enough to mix together the dry formula and some warm water from the tap.  Shaking the bottle vigorously in her right hand and holding the baby with her left, Tess walked out the backdoor and onto the small railed patio there.  The night air was warm, but not unpleasantly so.  Culíacan's proximity to the coast kept the temperature relatively mild for all but the hottest of the summer months.  Slowly pacing back and forth, Tess fed the bottle to the child and softly sang bits and pieces of songs to the child, hoping to get her to go back to sleep.

   Eventually, Lena fell back asleep.  Tess walked straight to the children's bedroom and put Lena back down in her bed.  She silently checked on the other children, but they were fast asleep and showed no signs of tears or nightmares.

   Assured that all was well, Tess decided that she had better go check on her patient.  She was glad that he had been able to walk around, that his body was healing, and that his pain levels were decreasing, but none of that would last for long if he over-exerted himself.  It didn't matter if he wanted to talk on the phone some more, he needed rest.

   With this thought in her head, Tessa went back to the living room to usher what was likely to be her recalcitrant patient back to bed – the only problem with this plan was that Sands wasn't in the living room.  Nor was he in the kitchen, the hall, the bathroom, or her bedroom.  As far as Tess could tell, he wasn't in the house.  _Well, I sincerely doubt that he's taken off after sticking around for this long, and even Logan at his most exuberant shouldn't have been enough to make him head for the hills.  But . . . he's definitely not in the house.  So where is he?  As Tess stood in the middle of her empty bedroom, she heard the cry of a small barn owl as it passed in the night.  __I suppose it's possible that he went outside.  But why?  Shrugging her shoulders because "why" didn't really matter at the moment, Tess followed her instinct and went back outside._

Whatever else Sands thought about Tess and her friend and his wacky idea, he had to admit that the kid had enthusiasm.  Not that he knew how old the other man was – if he had gone to school with Tess he must have some experience under his belt, but he had a voice that sounded as if it should belong to a med student rather than a doctor with years of research and experience to rely on.  And Sands had to admit that there was a certain type of genius to the man's plan – not that that made it any less crazy.

   That's why Sands had decided to talk with "Dr. Pierce" more extensively.  He didn't trust a plan that lacked an element of madness.  God knew that all of his plans contained more than their share of lunacy.

   _I need a cigarette.  Carelessly throwing the cell phone onto the couch, Sands stood up, biting back a groan as the muscles of his legs burned and his head resumed its pounding.  __Christ, I'm getting tired of this._

   Sands made his faintly unsteady way down the hall and towards the back of the house.  Fairly confident that no one was around to observe him, he placed his left hand against the wall to help keep his weaving and wavering to a minimum.  Uncaringly grabbing his pack of cigarettes and the lighter Tess had provided from the bedside table, Sands debated where he should go to smoke.  While Tessa hadn't said anything to him about his smoking, he was fairly certain that she didn't approve of it in her house.  _Not that I care about what she approves and disapproves of.  Still, it would be nice to get outside._

   Quietly, he made his way through the house to the kitchen.  Earlier that day, during the meal, he'd heard Tess take some garbage out that way.  He assumed it was the back door, although he couldn't say for sure since he had no idea if this house even had more than one.  Turning the knob, he carefully stepped through, well aware that a missed step or twisted ankle would be the crowning achievement to his recent bout of ignominious injuries.  Not to mention that if he did manage to sprain an ankle because he was being anything less than supremely cautious, he'd have to laugh himself out of the CIA; there wasn't anyone else around to do it for him.  _Well, I always have been my own biggest supporter._

   It took several moments for Sands to light his cigarette – he didn't have the kid around to tell him whether to go left or right with the flame – but he eventually managed to get the cigarette lit and was able to take a healthy drag from it.  As he exhaled slowly, he supposed that he should at least try to cut back on the amount of cigarettes  he smoked, but at he moment he really didn't give a damn.  It wasn't as if the loveliness of the surrounding was giving him any pleasure.  He inhaled slowly again, holding his breath to keep the smoke in his lungs.  _Alone.  Finally.  No busybody doctor with cryptic words to bother me.  Somewhere nearby an owl hooted.  Sands let out the breath he'd been holding._

   For the space of several breaths, Sands remained alone, just he and the night that saw less than he did.  Or maybe it saw more.  Or maybe he'd been around that woman for so long that her tangled thinking was creeping into his own mind.  _Just smoke, Sands.  That's what you came out here for._  Taking one last drag, Sands snuffed out the snub that was left of his first cigarette on the railing he was leaning against.  He pulled another out of his pack, and as he was lighting it, he heard the hinges of the screen-door creak as someone came out of the house.  There was the distinct -_slap_- of a single bare foot against the boards of the porch before his guest hesitated.  "Nice friend you've got there."

   "How'd you know it was me?"  Tess had been dying to ask the question for over a day now.  How did a man who couldn't see so accurately tell who was around him, even when the other person had made no more noise than a single quiet footstep?

   "He who hesitates is lost.  You doubt yourself a lot, don't you?  Tell me, on a scale of one to ten, where would your self-confidence level be?"

   "Caution is the better part of valor.  I fail to see how my state of mind has anything to do with how you always know it's me."  Sands took another drag of his cigarette; the faint light the action produced threw mysterious shadows over his face.  Tess shivered at the blatant reminder of how little she knew about this man.

   For several minutes, Sands didn't bother replying, not really caring to answer her original question.  To answer would require thought about how he perceived things now that he couldn't see – something he'd rather pay no mind to at all.  He hated that he was blind, hated that it was a rather permanent reminder of his failure and stupidity and the futileness of trust.  Hated the teasing sensation of hope at the back of his mind that told him that this woman was his only ticket back to the realm of the sighted.

   "He's trying to imitate Frankenstein.  You're aware of that, right?"

   Without thinking, Tess replied, "We live in a Newtonian world of Einsteinian physics ruled by Frankenstein logic."

   Sands paused before asking, "Do have a quote for every occasion?"

   Tess shrugged, wrapping her arms around her middle and leaning back against the carved porch rail.  "The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to men of understanding, nor favor to men of skill; but time and chance happen to them all."  Turning her eyes to the street below her house, Tess went on, "Perhaps not every occasion, but I'm getting there.  What do you mean Logan is trying to imitate Dr. Frankenstein?"

   "Look what a madman did with just pieces of dead bodies.  What is your friend going to make with a living man and a pair of eyes?  Frankenstein's creation didn't thank him.  What makes you think I'll be any more grateful?"

   "What makes you think that . . ."  No, that wasn't the question she wanted to ask.  "Why do you compare yourself to a monster?  You're just a man.  A dangerous hombre who shouldn't be underestimated, by all means.  But a man nonetheless.  A victim, either of the Fates, or the cartel, or . . . ." she trailed off, sure that she was about to overstep her boundaries as a caregiver.

   "Or what, _niña?  Of my own overbearing arrogance?  Is that what you wanted to suggest?"_

   Yes, that was what she had been about to say, and if he could tell then he must be thinking that on some level himself.  "The mass of men live lives of quiet desperation."  Straightening, she said, "No one is forcing you to do anything, señor.  You are free here to come and go as you please.  If you need help, please don't hesitate to wake me."  Sands thought that she was going to go in, but was surprised to hear her walking towards him.  The quiet footsteps stopped and a moment later he felt the cigarette that he was holding be plucked from his fingers.

   Tess raised the cigarette to her mouth and took a deep drag.  She immediately started coughing so hard that her eyes began to water.  Muffling the explosions behind one hand, she gave the cigarette back to Sands, who took it with a bewildered look on his face.  Breathing deep through her nose, Tess said in a rough voice, "Just as I suspected – some things never change."  This time when Sands heard footsteps, they were moving away from him and were followed closely by the noisy hinges of a screen door being opened.  "However, most of us have a choice to change."  Then the screen door slammed shut and Sands was once again alone with his thoughts.

   _Damn her._

"So, just how do you plan on getting out of the country?"  Tess looked up from brushing her teeth to find Sands once again blocking her way out of the bathroom with his trim frame.  _Is that his way of declaring his intention to go to LA and meet with Logan? she wondered as she took her time scrubbing her back molars.  _Or was he listening in long enough to hear me tell Logan that I was coming up for a visit?_  Tess spit into the sink, rinsed off her toothbrush, and then placed it in the cup that now held four others.  It was strange seeing that small collection of personal hygiene products.  Never before in her life had she found herself gazing at her toothbrush as it sat next to others.  In the dorms when she had been away at school, she and her roommate Ingrid – another med major – had kept their things in separate cabinets and their few surface areas clean.  As a child, she'd had her own bathroom that held nothing more than her own belongings._

   "Señorita?"

   "Oh, sorry."  Tessa made her brain switch gears, and it haltingly responded.  "I hadn't quite decided that yet.  It's easy enough for me to get out of the country – I have a passport – but I wasn't sure, and I'm still not sure, how many people I need to get out of the country.  I assume you're asking because you've decided to at least accompany me as far as Los Angeles?  Even if you do think that Logan is nuts?"

   Sands shrugged, playing the nonchalant bystander.  "Just because he's nuts and his plan sounds like it was cooked up by a forth grader doesn't mean that it doesn't have merit.  I've come up with too many crazy schemes on my own to discount this one outright."

   "Mmm."  Picking up her container of floss, Tess pulled a piece off and started cleaning between her teeth.  When Sands didn't leave after several seconds of silence, she looked back up at him.  There must be something else he wanted to say or ask.  That or he was simply trying to either intimidate or annoy her.  _Is there no in-between with this man?  He's either cooperative or trying to get on my nerves.  Why can't he just give it a rest and act like a normal person for once?_

_   **Who are you to judge?**_

****_I may not be normal, but at least I've seen how normal people act, and I'm not sure that this is it.  Throwing the used piece of floss in the wastebasket, Tess crossed the bathroom and took Sands by the arm.  "Bed.  Now.  If you want to be able to walk around tomorrow at all, then you need to rest."  The arm she had taken hold of flexed and twitched out of her grasp.  Taking that as a sign that her touch wasn't wanted at the moment, Tess let it slide, and followed her patient to the bed.  "I swear we've done this at least once tonight."_

   "What's wrong, chiquita?  Don't you like coming to bed with me?"

   "Haven't we gone over this as well?"  Tess watched as her patient settled back on the pillows.  "I know I've said this already, but if you need me I'll be on the couch." 

   She had almost made it to the doorway when Sands asked, "Why?"

   Tess was perfectly aware that he wasn't asking why she left him to himself every night – that he was asking why she hadn't given up on him, why she hadn't told Logan how he had lost his sight, why she cared.  He asked too much, so she pretended she didn't know what he meant.  "Because you like your privacy and I don't like to intrude.  Besides, I'm a horribly restless sleeper.  You wouldn't get a wink of sleep if I stayed."

   "That's not what I meant, niña."

   "I know . . . but you were asking a question I can't answer.  We all have secrets, 'Giovanni Tirado.'"  Tess hesitated before adding, "Sleep well."

   "It's Sands."

   Just over the threshold, Tess turned back and studied the man in her bed.  She didn't know what she had done or said to make him entrust her with that confidence, and she had torn feelings over it.  She was glad that he trusted her in some capacity, but that trust also terrified her, even more than the trust of Marcos and his small family.  They trusted her because she was an adult and therefore trustworthy.  He trusted her because . . . because . . . she couldn't begin to guess why.  All she could do was acknowledge that she'd heard.  "Thank you."

Tess sat her kitchen table the next morning with her head in her hand and the weight of weariness pressing down on her spine.  _When all this mess is settled, the first thing I'm going to do is take a very **large dose of sedatives and sleep for a week.**_  The past night had been full of disturbing dreams, but that was the worst that she could say about them.  Her voice was still too much under control to be able to manipulate her dreams to its own purposes, so while the feelings of her long ago past had emerged, none of the images had, and that was better than some of the nights she had.  It was a sad state though, when even exhaustion couldn't ensure a night's dreamless sleep.  _And here it is, before dawn, and I'm just as tired as I was yesterday night.  She didn't even dare drink coffee for fear that the caffeine would trigger another migraine._

   _Just get things settled.  Check on Sands, call Logan, make breakfast, settle travel arrangements, talk with Marcos, then go meet with Paulo.  Then, with any luck, I'll be able to sleep.  Wearily, wishing that she could simply lay in bed and ignore the rest of the world, Tess got up to start on her to-do list._

   Remembering what Sands had said the day before about the hesitation in her step when she went into a room, Tess made sure that there was no pause in her stride as she entered her bedroom.  She tried to be quiet, and apparently – for once – it paid off.  Sands was still asleep when she checked on him.  Relieved that her patient, if not she herself, got some rest, Tessa went into the bathroom and gathered her daily handful of pills, swallowing them all with the long ease of practice.  While making sure to leave the room as quietly as she had entered it, Tess was interrupted by a small gasp from the bed.  She spun around and saw that while Sands' body was still reclined and he seemed to be paying her presence no mind, his hands were gripping the covers tight enough to turn his knuckles white and his face was pale.  _Crap!_

   Tess darted towards the bed and threw open the lid to the trunk that still sat by the bed.  Efficiently she filled a syringe with Vicodin and injected it into the muscle of his shoulder.  Rubbing the spot to take away some of the sting, Tess waited for her patient's hands to release their death hold on the blankets.  Once they had, Tess asked, "Why didn't you come and wake me if the pain was getting worse?  Odds were that I was already awake."  She didn't bother questioning that Sands was wide awake.

   Her query was met with a growl of either impatience or ill-temper.  "What the hell did you just give me?"

   "Vicodin, but apparently I could have given you a shot of sugar while I was at it."  Sands opened his mouth to give her the dressing down of her life when she interrupted him.  "No.  Don't you dare start in on me.  As long as you are in my care I will do what I feel is best for you.  We've done things your way for the past few days – kept you on nothing stronger than Ibuprofen – and while that may be enough to keep the pain tolerable, it's not a crime to rely on something a bit stronger if you're in this much pain."  The conviction and unyielding quality in her voice made Sands shut his mouth.  "I know you're concerned about the possibility of dreams, but I'd think that by now your mind and body are so exhausted and tired of fighting the pain that you'll be able to fit in several hours of uninterrupted sleep, especially with the influence of what I just gave you."  Hands at his head were adjusting the pillows so he could recline a bit more comfortably.  "Now, I want you to go back to sleep.  I'll come in and check on you now and then, but until I do, I don't want to hear a word of protest out of you, comprendes?"

   "When'd you turn into such a shrew?"

   "When I started getting four hours of sleep a day and looking after men who are too stubborn for their own good.  Sleep, señor Sands."

   "Whatever you say, niña."

   _If only that were true._

"You're kidding me."  Tessa's voice was flat with disbelief.

   "Changing your mind about your opinion of private practice, T?"

   "No, I truly do find satisfaction in my work, it's just that . . . that's a rather big perk."

   "What?  Other doctors at prestigious firms, or labs, or hospitals get cars, golf clubs, stocks, expensive bottles of champaign . . . ."

   "Yes, but _we're talking about a private jet, Logan.  A __jet."_

   "Why are you complaining?  It's not _my jet, it's the firms, and I can get it down to Mexico for you to use . . ." he dangled the offer like a lure before a fish.  "It'll get you and your mystery patient up here quickly _and_ in style."_

   "Mmm-hmm, I don't doubt that.  It's just that I'm not sure this jet of yours is equipped to handle three children and an infant.  And what do you mean, 'my mystery patient'?  Didn't he tell you his name?"

   "No.  But back up?  What do you mean 'three children and an infant'?  When'd you find the time to have kids?  Who'd you find to have kids with?"

   "They're not mine, Logan."

   "Then why do you need to bring them?"

   "It's –"

   " – a long story.  Yeah, you've said that several times already."  Logan sighed.  "Are you sure you aren't a Russian spy named Natasha and the whole schizophrenic doctor thing isn't your cover?"

   "Yeah, pretty sure.  I'll have to check in with my operation handlers to double check that however.  What's this about a plane?"  If Logan could get her a plane, that would reduce a lot of the planning that would be needed to get four nationals and a blind American . . . whatever . . . out of the country.  Not for the first time, Tess wondered if she was really better off not knowing what Sands had done to get him in so much trouble.

   "I was saying that I could send it down for you and your crew.  After all, the thing is for firm business, and if I'm to meet with this prospective client, I need to get him here, don't I?  And it would increase your privacy of that's what you're worried about.  I can even have the pilot fly it right to the airport there in Culíacan."

   "No!" Tessa objected in a emphatic hiss.  She looked around to make sure she hadn't attracted any attention from the house's other occupants.  Now was not the moment for untimely interruptions.

   "Why not?"  Logan sounded bewildered by the strength of her objection.

   "I can trust you, right Logan?"

   "Of course you can.  You've got enough information and pictures from college and med school to blackmail me for years."

   "How comforting."  Tess bit a lip as she decided just how much to tell her friend.  "Ok, I can't say a lot right now, but I've got people looking for me, my patient, and possibly for the orphans I've taken in.  A private jet flying in from the US this soon after so much political unrest?  After a coup d'etat?  Why don't I just announce in the newspapers that where I can be found?"

   "Ok . . . then where do you want me to send the plane?"

   "First of all, are you really going to be able to do this?  Or are you saying you can and not checking with anyone to see if it's really possible?"

   "I'm hurt that you don't think that –"

   " – I don't think.  I'm running off of personal experience here, Logan.  Is this really doable?"

   "Yes.  I checked in with my boss last night after talking with your friend.  I thought that you might be able to talk him into coming up."

   "And you're sure –"

   "How many different ways do I need to say 'yes'?  Just tell me where you want to meet the plane.  You know the geography around there a bit better than I do."

   Tess sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, a gesture left over from the days when she used to wear glasses.  "How 'bout Mazatlán?  It's a four hour drive at most from here, and it's a tourist trap.  There's wealthy Americans flying in all the time.  One more private jet won't look out of place."

Having settled most of the details about their departure with her friend, Tess got up to go check on Sands.  The last three times that she had looked into the bedroom, she had been relived to find him resting peacefully.  _If only he'll sleep through this next talk I need to have, all will be well, and I can concentrate on getting him to go along with the plan.  Divide and conquer.  A house divided cannot stand.  I just need to settle things with Marcos._

   Leaving the open door of the bedroom, Tess went out into the living room and crooked her finger at Marcos.  He obediently got up from in front of the TV and came to her.  "What is it, señora Tessa?"

   "I need to talk to you about what we're going to do next."  The boy's face became serious much too quickly for Tessa's peace of heart.  It disturbed her to see so much concern in one so young.  But, that could be settled later; right now, she needed to discuss living arrangements with the boy.

   Marcos took a seat at the kitchen table while Tess got the cookie jar, two glasses, and the gallon of milk.  Setting everything down on the table, she took a seat across from Marcos.  She opened the jar and they both grabbed a cookie.  After taking her first bite and deciding just exactly what she was going to say, Tess began.  "Marcos, you know that I need to get your friend in there to safety, right?"  He nodded.  "Well, to do that, I'm going to need to take him back to the United States where a friend of mine is going to help him."

   "Another doctor?"

   "Yes.  One that specializes in . . . in eye injuries."

   "Can he help him?"

   "We both hope so, yes.  But that's not what I needed to talk to you about."  Marcos hung his head.  "Hey, don't do that to me.  It's alright to let me know what you're thinking."  Marcos still refused to look at her.  She knew he was afraid that she was abandoning them.  "Marcos, I need to know if there's any family that might be looking for you.  An aunt or uncle, cousins, grandparents?"

   Marcos shook his head.  "No, señora.  Mama and Papa were both only children and my grandparents died when I was a baby.  We don't have anyone else."

   Oh, the pain in his voice made tears come to Tessa's eyes.  She understood the feeling of having no one around to care for you all too well.  Reaching across the table, she took his hand in hers.  "Believe it or not, that makes things a bit easier for us to decide.  I know how much it hurts to be alone, and I'm not going to leave you alone.  I want you to help me decide how to care for you and your brother and sisters."  Marcos finally met her eyes.  "Now, we have three options.  I can alert the city government that you've been orphaned, and they will find a place for you somewhere.  That's the least attractive choice because they'll probably split you and your siblings up, and I know you don't want that to happen."  The boy shook his head.  "So we can eliminate that choice altogether, can't we?"

   "Sí, señora."

   "Ok.  Then here's your second option.  I take you and your sibling in, and I find a home for you here somewhere.  The downside to that is, I can't stay here.  Things are getting too dangerous for me here – people are going to be looking for me – so I'm going to go live in the United States.  The upside to this is, you'll all get to stay here in a culture that you know.  You'll be totally provided for, and I will find the best people to take care of you –"

   "No."

   "Are you sure, Marcos?"

   He nodded.  "We want to stay with you.  We know you."

   "But are you ready to move to another country?  Where there's another language, and customs, and holidays, and so much else?"

   "I've already started teaching Alma and René English."

   Tess nodded, having already figured that this was going to be his choice.  She wasn't sure that she was going to be able to be the parental figure that they needed, but she was willing to give it a try.  And once she was settled somewhere, she could find a nanny or something to help her out . . . a really nice housekeeper, perhaps.

   **_You realize you're taking on at least eighteen years of responsibility, right?  What makes you think you can last eighteen years?_**

****_Even if I don't make it, I can at least make sure that they're provided for, that they're kept off the streets, that they're given more of a chance to succeed in life than other children in their position.  "Ok, Marcos, we have deal."  The youngster grinned ear to ear.  "There's just one thing I need you to agree to, ok?"  _

   The boy looked at her, too content to even ask her what it was.  "Whatever it is, señora, I agree."

   Tess shook her head.  "I'm glad you do, because being called 'señora' constantly is making me feel old.  If we're going to live together, I need you to call me Tess or Tessa, ok?"

   Marcos looked shocked at the thought of addressing his elder in such a informal manner, but this was one point that Tess was not going to back down over.  She really did feel old every time one of the kids called her 'señora Tessa.'  "I can't."

   "Then what can you call me that isn't so formal?"

   The boy thought for a moment.

   "How about Aunt Tessa?"  Tess turned around in her chair to see Alma and René sitting against the wall.  They had managed to sneak close enough to overhear the entire conversation, and outspoken Alma had blurted the choice she thought was best.

   "We've never had an aunt before."  René volunteered, apparently approving of the name that his sister had come up with.  "I think you'd make a good aunt.  You're fun."

   Tess turned to see what Marcos thought.  Certainly, if the children would pretend to have some sort of familial relationship with her, it would make the charade she was about to attempt seem a bit more convincing.  Marcos simply nodded, but she could tell that he like the idea of having an aunt just as much as his brother and sister did.  "Okay, I suppose that will do.  Hey!  What –"  As soon as she had given her acceptance, the three children had jumped up and mobbed her.  As she accepted the hugs and laughs of three relieved children, she thought, _If this is what I have to look forward to for the next eighteen years, then maybe I can do it._

   The voice in the back of her head seemed to say, **_We'll see about that._**

************************************************************

**First off **– much thanks for all who sent in quotes for me.  They've been printed out and added to what is quickly becoming my 'quote binder.'  If anyone else has ones they'd like to send me, I'd love to get it from you in an e-mail.  My address is see_captain_jack_run@hotmail.com

**Quotes:** unfortunately, I'm really not sure where most of my quotes in my chapter are from.  The first two . . . yeah no clue who said 'he who hesitates is lost,' or 'caution is the better part of valor.'  If you know, please fill me in so I can give credit where credit is due.  The quotes that came after that: David Russel, Ecclesiastes 9:11 (NIV), and Thoreau. 

**Author's Thanks:** as always, many thanks you my loyal and faithful reviewers, **Miss Becky, Lunatic, Logical Philosophy, and **Ashley, **my ever-so-helpful and encouraging beta.  (Truly, I wasn't sure whether or not I really even wanted to post this chapter.)**

   Next thanks go to the new reviewers, who this time number **TaraRose(glad you're enjoying rythmteck's fics.  She's one of my several heroes.) and **liquidiamond** (thanks so much for that quote.  I think I'll be able to use it sooner or later).**

If you want to see your name here, all you have to do is **review!  ^_^**


	17. Behind Blue Eyes

**Author's Note:  God, I hate finals and dead week.  I can't wait until Christmas break (just five more days!) and I can do nothing but laze around the house and write.  Mmm . . . .**

**Anyway, this chapter is a bit of a break, respite, throw to the desperate SJ fangirls.  With any luck, everyone is in character, and with more luck, we'll get some action/adventure in the next chapter as Tess and her flock set out for the U.S.  : )  Let's just say that I have plans.  *rubs hands evilly***

**As always, author's thanks at the end.  Enjoy.**

************************************************************************

Tess hated walking into a dark house.  There was just something about a building when it was dark that set her nerves on edge – even a house that she had been living in for months.  The only place where she hadn't minded the dark had been her dorm room while she had been at school, and it had never been truly dark.  Either she or her roommate had always been up late studying for one class or another.  But here, in this house in Mexico . . . there were just too many memories of being helpless in the dark here.  Too many memories of nights where she had cried out from nightmares and no one had come running, of wandering around sightless while hearing the mocking comments of her half-sister.  Not to mention that there were too many places for someone to hide and use the darkness to their advantage.  _Do not stay in a place of danger trusting miracles._

   **_Thirty years old and still scared of the dark_, her voice scoffed.**

   _Everyone is scared of something, and the unknown is a thing worth fearing at times._

_   **It's not fear of the unknown that scares you – it's fear of the known.  You know that 'Sands' is in there, and that he's going to blast you for being out so late.**_

****Tess, standing on her back porch, tilted her wrist towards the moon so she could read what time it was.  Nearly one in the morning.  She winced.  _I did mean to be back before now.  And why should I think that anyone is still up?_She knew better than that.  If Sands had woken up and found her gone, he would have stayed up to protect himself, if not the children as well.  If Tess dismissed all else that she could say about the man, she would be left with the statement that he was very vigilant.  _And even if he is up, what right does he have to be mad at me?  I had an errand that needed to be run, that could only be run this late, and it's not only for the kids' safety but his as well.  With that comforting thought, Tessa unlocked her back door and stepped into the kitchen – right into a pair of waiting arms._

   Fighting the urge to struggle, Tess froze and waited for some kind of clue as to who had her trapped.  After several tense seconds a rough voice in her ear asked, "Late night?"

   A wave of relief rushed through her, but Tess refused to give into it.  "Sands, let me go.  You should be in bed."

   "I'm getting real sick of hearing you say that, niña.  Did you ever think that I might stay in bed if I had some company?"

   "If you want company, invent an imaginary friend."  Tess pulled away from Sands, angry at the stunt he had pulled but unwilling to show it.  She knew that if she did, he'd keep pulling it, like a two year old who does something to make his parents laugh and later they regret encouraging them.  And not only that, but if the mulish expression on his face was any indication, she was in for a long night.  "Look, if you go to bed without making me talk 'til I'm blue in the face, then I'll tell you a bedtime story."

   "A bedtime story."  Sands actually sounded incredulous, and Tess felt a surge of satisfaction at once again managing to bewilder him.  Even if it did mean that he thought she was not only crazy but stupid as well.

   "Yes, one filled with secret identities, plots that endanger life and limb, and people willfully flaunting the law."

   The slow light of understanding came to Sands' face.  "You've come up with a way to get out of the country."

   Tessa grinned wryly.  "Yeah, something like that."  Sands immediately turned and headed for the bedroom, leaving the woman to trail after him.

**Earlier that Night:**

//¡Ladrón!  ¡Yo tengo empresa para tu!\\  _Lightfingers_!  I have business for you!  _Tess eyed the dim shop doubtfully.  While people of such shady ethics as her contact were not quite trustworthy, they were usually prompt with whatever you needed and extremely resourceful.  It was that resourcefulness that she had to watch out for – if there was a price on her head, he wouldn't hesitate to turn her in.  At least the pistol she was wearing in a shoulder holster gave her some measure of safety._

   //¡Yo estoy cerrado!  ¡Largarse!\\  _I'm closed!  Buzz off!_

   // Ya lo se.  Ese el motivo de mi aqui.\\  _I know.  That' why I'm here.  Tess didn't have all night to persuade skittish shopkeepers to come out and see her.  "Lightfingers, drop the act and get your ass out here already."_

   A tall man in his mid-twenties came out and surveyed her.  //¡Señorita sin nombre!\\  _Ms. Nameless!_

   "Who else is back there, ladrón?"  Tess pointed her chin towards the back room he had appeared from.  Just because she might do business with the man didn't mean that he had her trust.

   //Solamente mi vieja madre.\\  _Only my aged mother._

   Tess made a show of rolling her eyes.  "Please, give your dearest mother my regards, but I'd feel much more comfortable conducting this conversation in English, if you please."

   The man shrugged, a hank of dark hair flopping boyishly into his eyes.  "Whatever you say, señorita.  What can I do for you?"

   Tess pulled a fifty dollar bill out of her pocket.  "This is for your attention."  She knew by the way he snapped to attention at the sight of the money that she had it without asking.  

   Her companion's eyes stayed locked on the bill while he said, "My services are not that cheap, señorita.  You know that."

   "Yes, I do.  I also know that a bonus will get a girl a lot of things.  This is in addition to your normal fee.  Consider it a present . . . to buy rich food for your poor mother."  She handed over the money.  "I need five passports and other assorted legal documents."

   "What kind of legal documents?"  The calculating tone in the man's voice put Tessa somewhat at ease.  For the moment his greed ensured her secrecy.

   "Four birth certificates and four sets of adoption papers.  And then I need you to hack into the government's system and make the changes I need."

   "Not cheap, señorita.  Also not easy.  We're talking lotsa money."

   "How much?"

   "Three thousand."

   _That's actually a bit less than I was planning for.  Tess had enough experience dealing with men of this caliber to know that he was vastly overcharging her, that she was being taken for a fool, but she could live with that.  It wasn't as if she were asking him to do something simple, after all.  The documents were produced easily enough, but hacking into the government's computer systems could be risky.  However, the closer it was done to the coup, the better.  Glancing around the room, she shrugged and muttered something unpleasant in Spanish before agreeing.  "Three thousand it is.  And if you can get these for me by tomorrow night, I'll give you another two hundred."_

   "Another thousand.  As it is, I'm going to be up all night finishing just the papers."

   "You were going to be up all night anyway.  I'll pay an extra five hundred."

   "Yes, but now I'll be up most of the day as well.  Make it eight hundred."

   "Seven-fifty, and I can't do better than that."  It was true.  This was going to take most of her spare cash as it was, and she really wanted to keep some money on her if she was going to be taking five people to Mazatlán before the end of the week.

   The man shrugged reluctantly.  "Who am I to gouge a damsel in distress?  Seven-fifty it is.  Did you bring photos for me?"  

   Tess pulled out four Polaroids and a magazine. 

**Present Time:**

Keeping her hands at her sides as she watched her patient settle himself in her bed, she decided to be blunt.  "Logan found a way to get us out of the country."

   "And that's what kept you out of the house for the last four hours?" Sands drawled.  Just for the sake of irritation, he put a cigarette to his lips and lit it.

   "Well, no . . . yes . . . sorta."  _Ok, I know I had control of this conversation at one time.  What happened?  What happened was that Sands had rediscovered his joy in interrogating innocent bystanders, and it showed in his voice.  At the prospect of being able to once again step into the role he had carved for himself within the CIA, Sands had seemingly come to life.  Tess had noticed how he had done this on other occasions, but this time the vibes he sent out were stronger.  If she needed any indication of her patient's will or of his hidden strength, this was it.  _God forbid he ever get his hands on a cinderblock room and a bare lightbulb._  "What took forever was I had to wait forever to get the services I needed."_

   "Oh, chiquita, you didn't need to leave the house to get serviced.  I would have been happy to lend a hand."

   "Señor Sands, as kind an offer as that is, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop making passes that a love-struck fifteen-year-old would see through."  The atmosphere lifted a little, letting Tessa relax for the first time since she had come back to the house.  "I had to take care of some business if I'm going to see everyone safely taken care of."

   "Don't be so unforthcoming, señorita.  I already know about your plan to take those kids to the States."  _Ah, information.  There's nothing like knowing more than your adversary.  Not that Tess is much of an adversary – she's much too transparent._

   "What?"  Even now her voice gave away too much about herself.  She sounded surprised in the most unpleasant way.

   Sands took an extremely satisfying drag from his cigarette.  "That kid, Marcos – he's quite the talker.  Told me all about the poignant moment you had.  Had to fight to keep my lunch down."

   Tess took a deep breath to steady her nerves and ended up struggling to not cough.  _Ugh.  Out of all the dirty, disgusting habits he could have, it had to be this one._  It wasn't so bad when she was in another room or they were outside, and it probably wouldn't bother her if there was a bit more humidity in the air, but in these close quarters her lungs were throwing a hissy fit.  Deciding that a lack of nicotine was unlikely to kill him when nothing else had yet, Tess reached over and snatched the cigarette from his mouth.

   "What the hell do you think you're doing?"  Sands reached for the rest of his pack, but Tess was quick enough to grab that as well.

   "You can do that just as well when I'm not here, and I can't talk while you're smoking like a chimney.  The air is too dry here – I have a hard enough time breathing without you adding to the problem.  Did you want to hear what I was doing or not?  Because if the answer is 'not', I know I'd rather be sleeping."

   Sands let the issue slide, figuring that he probably owed her that much.  And the soon her repaid her the sooner he could get back to being an asshole.  "Fine.  Please, enlighten me."

   _Yeah, I'd like to enlighten you alright.  "So, since you've been informed that I've taken Marcos and his family under my wing, and you've so astutely pointed out that I will be taking them to the US with me, why don't we start there."_

   Quickly and with a bare minimum of detail, Tess explained to Sands exactly what the plan was to get out of Mexico.  She summarized her conversation with Logan, her decision regarding the children, and what she had been doing that night.  For the most part, she did it to keep Sands from interrupting her with snide or unhelpful comments, figuring that if he had any valid points to raise, he'd be able to remember them until she got to the end of her explanation.  While her strategy worked, it also kept her too busy summarizing to watch his face for tell-tale signs of perked interest.

   Unknowingly, she was giving away much more than a simple plan.

"You bought fake IDs."  Sands was having a hard time wrapping his head around the concept.  So far, everything Tess had done had been somewhat predictable.  It had all had a common motivator – righting some of the chaos that had been caused by Day of the Dead massacre.  But before now, it had all been within the law.  Now, now she was blatantly flaunting both Mexican and US laws, not to mention immigration policies and a dozen other regulations on both sides of the border.  If she wasn't careful, she was going to make him extremely interested in her.

   Sands heard the apology in her voice as she said, "Know the rules so you can break them properly."

   "Where'd you hear that one?"

   "I read it."  The silence that met this evasion clearly indicated that her patient was waiting for an answer.  "Esquire, alright?"

   "You read Esquire?"  The intensity in his voice made Tessa extremely wary.  Something she'd said had provoked some kind of reaction she didn't understand in the man, and it made her unwilling to share more information than she had to.

   "Every now and then."

   "Would you be insulted if I started fantasizing about you?"  She didn't answer.  _Oh well.  "So what else did you get besides four illegal IDs?"_

   "A fifth ID and eight forged government documents.  Four birth certificates and four sets of adoption papers.  Not to mention that I had to wait around and make sure my friend changed pertinent government records, so if anyone does try to trace the kids, they won't find anything.  I took the liberty of changing their last names.  I'm now the proud aunt of the Cosala family."

   "You're finally telling me your last name?"

   "No.  I use my middle name as my last in the States."

   Sands didn't comment for a moment, but then switched topics on her.  "You surprise me, niña.  I would have thought that you already had a passport.  Why print yourself up a new one?"

   "I didn't."

   "Then why did you need five IDs?"

   "One's for you.  I assumed you didn't want to use whichever passport got you into the country, in case someone was on the look-out for it."

   "And just where did you get a photo for this ID?"  Sands' voice was dangerously low and unconcerned.  To the common bystander, he would have sounded as if he were asking what time it was.  She knew better – knew that if she wasn't careful she might end up with another bruise or two.  Not that this was a new concept for her; her father had been the same way, had had that same rigidly indifferent manner that had always made an appearance before she had been punished.

   Tess bit her lip and wondered when she was going to learn to how to tactfully phrase what she said around this man instead of simply blurting things out.  "Well, I . . . ."  _Ugh, I'm going to sound so silly._  "I . . . ."

   "Spit it out, niña."

   "I bought a magazine at the store and looked through it until I found a picture that looked enough like you that we can get away with using it as long as half your face is hidden.  Which isn't a problem at the moment."

   Sands was quiet for a moment before he started making a muffled choking noise.  Tess was halfway to her feet before she realized that her patient was not choking, but laughing at her.  Slowly sitting back down, she poked at the mixed feelings this raised in her.  She had never heard Sands express anything remotely like amusement before, and she was glad that even despite – or perhaps because of – his circumstances, he had found something to laugh at.  However, she didn't exactly like the fact that he was laughing at her.

   "So, whose picture did you choose to give me a face, niña?  The phantom of the opera?"

   "I don't want to tell you."

   "Why not?"

   "You'll laugh at me again.  That, or your ego will get an incredible boost from the information and I won't be able to deal with you for days."

   "Now you've got my attention."

   _Lucky me.  "That's unfortunate, because I have nothing to tell you.  Now rest up.  If we're to leave the house in four days, you need to do as much recuperating as you can."_

_And I'd really like to be able to get some sleep at some point before the sun rises._

   "Why leave in four days?  Why not tomorrow?"

   "Because all the stuff that I'm having forged won't be ready until tomorrow night, because I need to rent a car that will seat five people and an injured man, and because _you_ need some more time to recuperate."

   "I'm not a fucking invalid."

   The conversation had been going so well before she had mentioned that he wasn't at peak physical performance.  Next time she'd have to remember to blame something else for her hesitance.  "No – you're a man who underwent major and crudely-performed surgery and had three bullets shot into him just three days ago.  Ok, so you're up walking for short bits of time, but don't think I haven't noticed that you're still depending rather heavily on the walls to keep from falling on your face.  And you might be sick of lying in bed, but there's a rather large difference between laying on a soft surface and riding in a car for several hours.  If you think a little head rattle sets off a headache, just wait until we're on the road.  I've decided when we'll leave, and you're not going to change my mind."

   _Mmm . . . pulling rank.  And unfortunately, she does have a point._  As much as his hackles raised at the mention of his injuries and the way she seemed to rub his face in them, he managed to control his temper.  They were both short on sleep and she was undoubtedly bordering on hysteria.  As the only man around, he had to keep her calm.  It was the least he could do.  "Just wanted to make sure that you had taken everything into account, niña.  I don't cherish the thought of being bounced around on what you people call highways any more than you cherish the thought of having to bounce me around."

   Tessa glared at the man as she listened to the masculine superiority in his voice, but it didn't do too much good.  She doubted it would do her any good even if he could see her.  And for all she knew, he just had a pompous streak and wasn't trying to piss her off for once.  "I'm glad that I've managed to settle things to your approval."  Even she could hear the ice in her voice, and she cursed herself for letting him get to her.  "Now, if you would excuse me, I'd like to get to bed."  Wheeling around, she left him on the bed as she went to her bathroom to follow her nightly routine.

   Sands smiled.

"Señor?  Are you awake?"  Marcos glanced back at the door nervously.  He didn't want Tessa to sneak up and hear what he had to say to the man on the bed.  "Señor?"

   Sands had heard the boy the first time, but he'd been hoping the kid would go away.  He wasn't here to babysit.  He didn't even like kids.  Just because he tolerated this one didn't mean anything other than he was so bored out of his mind that he'd even talk with the boy.  "Didn't anyone ever tell you that some people need their beauty sleep?"

   "Sí, señor.  Tía Teresa told us the story of sleeping beauty, but when Alma asked if that was why you were sleeping, she said that it would be pointless for you."  The boy spoke to Sands for the first time in English, wanting the practice.  

   His audience wasn't paying attention, however.  Sands couldn't decide whether he was supposed to feel insulted or complemented by the statement.  Who knew what had been running through Tessa's head when she had said that?

   "Señor?"

   "What, kid?"

   "Can I talk to you?"

   "No."  He wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.  His entire body was exhausted.  When the kid didn't say anything else, Sands got suspicious.  Taking more care to listen, he heard quiet footsteps heading towards the door.  __

_   **Way to scare the kid off.  I really was starting to think you were turning into a wimp there, Shel-don.**_

****_Damn you._  "I was being sarcastic, kid."  The footsteps paused before once again coming back to the bed.  "What was so important that you had to come wake me up instead of waking your brand-new aunt?"

   "I tried to wake her up, but I couldn't."

   "What do you mean?"  God, if the woman had croaked in the middle of the night then they were all in a fix.

   "I shook her, but she only mumbled, and then turned back over, and I couldn't get her to do anything again."

   "What'd she say?"

   "No toque mé."  _Don't touch me._  "I don't think she's sleeping well.  She has big circles under her eyes."

   Sands though for a moment before asking, "What time is it?"

   "Almost nine.  She's usually up at sunrise."

   From what he could tell, Tessa hadn't gotten to bed until well after three.  The youngest kid had been up fussing for hours, and Tess, tender heart that she was, had stayed up with her.  Part of him wanted to tell the kid to just let her sleep, but another part said that wasn't enough.  If sleeping on the couch had been restful enough for her, she'd be able to go on five or six hours of sleep a night.

   **_You sat on that couch.  Did it feel as if anyone would be able to sleep on it?_  **

Once again, Sands hated being right.  That couch was nothing more than some plywood covered by thin pads.  She might as well be sleeping on the floor.  _What do you want me to do?  Go wake Sleeping Beauty with a kiss and then tuck her into bed?  _The voice was silent.  _God, I hate you._

   Holding back a groan as muscles stiff with overexertion complained at having to support him, Sands got out of bed.  _All I can say is she'd better appreciate this._  Why did he think that?  He knew that she'd do anything but thank him.  More likely she'd scold him for getting out of bed and for letting her oversleep.  But it would keep her off balance as to what to expect from him, and that had to be worth the darts of pain making their way up his spine.  In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.  Anything that would help him keep that woman from figuring out what was going on in his head was worth doing.  Not to mention that she was amusing when she was mad.

   Sands could hear Tess tossing and turning in her sleep as he came into the living room.  But even with the restless sounds of her body on the couch, it wasn't the rustle of cloth on cloth that made him pause, but the whisper of someone talking in their dreams.  He should know what it sounded like by now, he'd awoken himself often enough in the past few days with the same whisperings.  From what he could tell, he doubted that her dreams were any more pleasant than his, and that annoyed him.  It was just one more step on her way to becoming an actual person instead of a talking doll to be manipulated.

   "Kid, com'ere."  If he was actually going to do this, he was going to need to be able to brace himself against something, and the kid was the best thing he had.  When he felt the boy come to stand next to him, he wrapped his injured arm around his shoulders and reached down to wake Tess up.  "Wake up, niña."

_"Are you asleep Teresa?  I thought I asked you stay awake."_  She hadn't meant to fall asleep, really she hadn't.  It's just that she was so tired.  She'd never stayed up for so many days without sleeping.  _"To weak to even stay up for a few hours."_

_   "I'm sorry, Father.  I tried."_  What did he mean, 'a few hours'?  It'd been two days since she'd last slept.

_   "You failed."  _He met the eyes of someone behind her.

   Tessa panicked as someone behind her grabbed her arms.  The unfairness of it all suddenly struck her, and she fought.  _"No!  Don't touch me!"_  She swung out with an arm and was thrown against the wall for her troubles.  She fell to the floor and looked up, seeing her father advancing on her, his eyes filled with violence.  She was in for it now.  She lashed out with a foot as his hand descended.

"No toque mé . . . .  Lo siento."  _Don't touch me . . . . I'm sorry._  Tessa's muscles jerked as she fought back in her sleep.  Marcos watched her worriedly, afraid that she might try to hurt Sands.  He didn't like the situation at all.

   Sands, on the other hand, was fully prepared to feel a slap or a kick at any moment.  Anyone this lost in unconsciousness was likely to react to outside stimuli in the same way they reacted in their dream.  "Com'on niña.  You know that you'd rather be awake while kicking my ass."  Tilting his head towards Marcos, he asked, "Is she awake yet?"

   "No, señor."

   Smothering a groan, Sands bent over and said in a normal speaking voice, "Wake up."  He had no idea where her ear actually was, but assumed he had come close to his goal when he narrowly managed to move his head before her arm shot up.  "You awake yet?"  Something about the way she groaned assured him that she was.  "Com'on, chiquita.  Let's get you into bed."  More unintelligible murmurs, but Tess did let him get her to her feet without putting up a fight, which was a good thing – otherwise Sands would have ended up dumping her on her bum.  But even though he had managed to get her to her feet, Sands didn't think that she was fully conscious of what was going on around her.  She leaned on him a bit too much, let him support a bit more of her weight than she would if she had been aware of who she was leaning on.  Staggering, with Tessa leaning on Sands, and Sands leaning on Marcos, and Marcos bracing himself against the wall, the three made it down the hall.

Tess woke a few hours later with an unfamiliar scent in her nose.  For several seconds she did nothing more than lay in bed and breathe deeply.  _What is that?_  Soon after the realization that she was smelling something new came the recognition that she was laying on a soft surface, nothing like her couch, and that her body was close to another heat source.  _What's going on?  Struggling, she managed to open her eyelids, only to regret her decision to do so; Sands face was uncomfortably close to her own.  Tess froze, her every muscle paralyzed by the thought of how she had gotten into this position with a man she knew next to nothing about, but the sensation of clothing rubbing against her skin brought her out of it.  Her eyes darted over the part of Sands that she could comfortably see – he too was clothed.  Tess relaxed partially, still all too aware that she had no recollection of getting into her bed._

   _Best to get out of it though, before he wakes up.  Sands breathing was deep and regular.  Carefully, watching and listening for any change in his respiration, Tess eased herself off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling by the side of the bed.  From this vantage point she could see the fine lines that marked her patient's face.  __Why do I think we were both safer when he was simply 'Giovanni?'  It was intriguing, but it also made one think of a someone who is easily fooled and dimissed.  Sands is too simple to turn aside any interest.  She wondered what had cause those lines, and thought that perhaps they were made more noticeable by the presence of pain.  Her eyes moved from his face to his arm – the bandage wrapped around his left bicep was stained with blood.  Had he broken open the wound while trying to get her into bed?  Is that why he was still asleep?_

   **_Not good.  Leave the room now._**

Tessa didn't question the voice, well aware that there were too many things happening that she didn't understand.  Now was the wrong time to develop any sort of fascination except with survival.  And Sands, no matter how intriguing, represented anything but survival.  She crept to her feet, ready to bolt like a rabbit should so much as a whisper come from the man she was watching.

   **_Then again, I always did like the way a good mystery got your mind onto other things.  Maybe you should stay.  Let your hands and attention wander._**

****_He'd kill me.  **I'd**** _kill me.  Death by embarrassment was never my first choice of demises._**_

_   **You know you want to.**_

****_I know you want me to.  But I want nothing other than a cup of coffee.  The dark, rich, bitter brew that the populace of Mexico drank.  A liquid that could strip the varnish off wood if left for too long.  If nicotine was her patient's vice, then caffeine was hers – not that she got to drink it much anymore.  "Everything in moderation" was her motto now that overindulgence could tip the scales to the favor of the part of her mind that rebelled against her control.  She slowly backed out the room.  _A cup of coffee would do me good right now, I think.__

   Tess retreated to the kitchen and lit the burner under her kettle.  As she waited for the water to start to boil, she glanced around the room, her eyes landing on the kitchen clock.  _A quarter past noon.  I shouldn't have slept that long._  Her fingers started drumming against the counter behind her.  -_Taptaptap__.  Taptaptap-  The first wisps of steam rose from the spout of the kettle.  Briskly moving as if energy and speed could dispel her tumultuous mind, Tess poured the water into the cone that held her coffee._

   //Tía Teresa.  You're up.\\  Tess turned to find René in the doorway.  //Marcos said you were tired and were taking a nap.  Were you?\\

   //Yes, René.\\  Tess picked up the cone and set it in the sink to continue draining – she had enough coffee in her cup to keep her awake for some time to come.  As if her mind needed the help at the moment.  //Will you get your brother and tell him I'd like to talk to him?\\  The boy nodded and ran off.  Tess sat at the kitchen table, staring at the grain of the wood and waiting for a picture to form before her eyes.

   "You wanted to see me?"  The boy was getting more confident speaking English.

   Tess looked up.  Marcos hovered guiltily in the entryway, shifting from one foot to the other.  "Relax.  I just wanted to ask you a few questions.  Come, have a seat."  The boy sat across from her at the table.  "Can you tell me how I moved from the couch to my bed?"  The boy flushed.  "I'm not angry, just curious.  I can't remember what happened."

   Marcos shrugged.  "I woke up this morning and you were still asleep.  I tried to wake you up, but you wouldn't.  So I went and talked to _el señor.  He thought you were tired and that you might sleep better in a bed, so he made me help him move you."  There was something that boy wasn't saying.  Tess wasn't sure what it was, but he wouldn't meet her eyes, and his feet were beating an aggravated tattoo against the legs of his chair._

   "Was I talking in my sleep?"  The boy nodded, eliciting a sigh from Tess.  It was bad enough that she was haunted by unpleasant memories; she didn't want anyone else to suffer as well.

   "I was scared."  The quiet admission caught her attention.

   "Why's that?"

   "Because you sounded scared, like someone was hurting you."  The boy peeked up at her under his eyelashes.  Waiting for an explanation.

   Tess wasn't sure what to tell him.  Someone had been hurting her, but would he understand what it was like to fear a man who claimed to be your father?  What it was like to fear half of who you were because you had seen the evidence of what it could do?  "It was just a dream, Marcos, and dreams can't hurt anyone."  The boy nodded, accepting this explanation as easily as he accepted everything else she said.  "Now, go turn off the TV and get your brother and sister to play a game with you.  Too much TV will rot your brain."  The boy got up and left.

   Wishing that she could dismiss the phantoms of her mind as easily as he accepted her explanation, Tess remained at the table, staring down into the black reflective surface of her drink.  In its dark mirror, her eyes appeared an indistinct brown, the only part of her face she could easily make out.  How she wished that what she was seeing was real, that her eyes were a deep, dramatic brown that was so common to her neighbors.  But they weren't.  They were a deep, bright blue – a color that stood out from her skin.  Her father's eyes.

   "All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream."  Fighting the urge to throw her mug against the wall – to watch the dark liquid of her mirror stain the wall as fragments of pottery flew everywhere – Tess stood up and walked to the sink.  As she poured her drink down the drain, she wished with all her might that she could wake up from the dream that had been designated as hers.

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**A/N 2: **hope my Spanish was okay.  Everything there was the result of me working out of an English/Spanish dictionary and dim memories of my two years of HS Spanish class.  Please, e-mail me if you spot any inaccuracies.

**Quotes: **the first is actually an Arab proverb (Do not stay in a place of danger . . .), then we've got a larcenous quote from Esquire, and lastly a tidbit from Poe.

**Author's Thanks:**  many thanks to **Logical Philosophy (who shared a story with me.  I love stories!), ****Miss Becky, and **Bitchy Little Pixy** (yay!  You're back!  I'm glad!)  And of course, to my beta ****Ashley – you have no idea how much your end note to the beta chapter encouraged me.  I was never a big fan of Hemingway, but it's nice to know that at least I writing in the same style as someone who's famous. ^_^**

Nextly, thanks to my two new reviewers **Trish** (your review was also a total encouragement.  It really made my day to read it.  I hope to hear from you again.) and **TaraRose**. (I'm glad you're enjoying Sarah's fics.  I'm just as big a fan of her work as anyone.  I swear that girl if channeling some unknown pirate, or tapped into JD's Sparrow-ness.  I'm not sure how else she manages to write that. ^_^  Hope to hear from you soon.)


	18. On the Road

**Author's Note: It is I, the Daisy writer of the neon persuasion!  I must admit that the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.  (Mark Twain quote, there.)  Gah!  Real life is horrible.  Leaves no time to write.  TGICV – thank God it's Christmas vacation.  : )**

**You all have to stop reading my mind!  It's freaky!  You shall all discover the picture on Sands' fake ID in the next chapter, so have patience.  I think most of you can figure it out anyway.  It was too delicious an opportunity to pass up.  ; )**

**Author's thanks at the end.**

****************************************************************

"_In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop until against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God."_  Tess awoke with a start from the dream.  It wasn't that it had been a nightmare, but that it had struck much too close to home for her comfort.  It was bad enough having nightmares without having dreams that tried to justify themselves.  "I never did like Aeschylus," she muttered to herself, thinking of the quote that had awoken her.  There was something about regarding pain as a form of God's grace that disturbed her.  Putting the matter out of her head, she relaxed once more on the couch.  If she was any judge of time at all, she had perhaps an hour before-

   _-Beep-  That settled it once and for all – Tess couldn't judge time to save her life.  She resisted the urge to groan as she levered herself off the couch, instead taking the opportunity to stretch.  Feeling the skin of her side and upper arm pull and burn as her two wounds quietly informed her that they would like a bit more time to heal before she demanded a great deal of elasticity from them, she gave a mental apology.  _Sorry, forgot.__

   As she lurched to her feet like one of the undead, Tess glanced around the darkened room.  This had been a nice enough place to stay – as had so many of the small houses she'd habitated in the past few years – but she would not be sad to leave it behind.  Over the past year or so, she had been feeling the pull to settle down and leave the violence of the cartel behind.  The only thing that had kept her from obeying that call had been the continual stream of injuries that the cartel had left in its wake.  Now that her father and his chosen successor were both dead, she didn't have that reason to wander.  She was free for the first time that she could remember to leave Mexico and all it had come to represent to her behind.  To settle down somewhere that didn't hold any memories for her.  She just had to get Sands to Los Angeles safely.  _Time to go._

   Earlier in the day, as twilight had fallen over Culíacan, Tess had packed the few bags they'd need.  Two cases of clothes for the children, one for her, one for Sands, and the truck with her medical supplies.  In a backpack in the front of the rented minivan was a small cache of food and water, and a prepared bottle of formula for Selena.  With any luck, none of this would be needed.  One of the reasons Tess had planned their departure for one o'clock in the morning – other than the extra level of secrecy it would grant – was the hope that the children would be so tired that they'd sleep right through the nearly four hour drive.

   Once she was back inside the house, Tess patiently roused the older children from their sleep and ushered them across the hall, through her bedroom, to the bathroom.  She waited as they each took their turn, ignoring the protests against any need to use the restroom.  Instead, she watched to see if Sands showed any signs of waking up on his own.  He didn't, but that didn't mean anything.  Over the past for days she'd taken on many a task thinking that her patient was resting peacefully, only to be unpleasantly surprised later on when she turned to do something else and found Sands spooking around in the background.  And always with a superior smirk on his face.  She swore he had spent hours in front of a mirror perfecting that smirk.

   Then, of course, every once in awhile one of the children would catch Sands as he prowled and skulked, but they seemed just as delighted with the game as Sands was.  The three older kids would laugh hysterically when Tess would start with surprise to find someone so close behind her.  The worst time had been when she'd stepped out of the shower yesterday morning to find Sands seated comfortably on the closed toilet, a look of patient expectation on his face.  She'd actually shrieked – _shrieked – and slammed the stall door closed again, ignoring the fact that her patient had no eyes and therefore couldn't see that she was naked.  She couldn't help feeling that it was bad enough that he was able to guess that she showered in the nude, without actually being in the same room with him when she was.  Tess knew it was irrational, but that was the way she felt._

   Only little Selena was her ally in avoiding these unpleasant reminders that while she may have a brought a disabled man into her home, she hadn't brought an incapable one.  And all the baby did was crow happily when she caught sight of the man.  But for the most part, Tess was alone in her desire to avoid catching a glimpse of her houseguest.

   _It's funny, she thought as she waited for the last child to finish their business.  _I'm, if not scared to death of the man, then I'm at the very least extremely wary of him.  But the kids treat him like someone here for their entertainment.  They're fascinated by him, but not intimidated.  I wonder why that is?  You'd think that will all his bandages and cold mannerisms, that they'd leave him alone.  But no.  Me, the one who's tended all his wounds and watched him sleep – the one who's seen him at his most vulnerable – I'm the one that finds herself intimidated by him._  René came out of the bathroom, and Tess set aside her thoughts for more immediate action._

   Herding her sleepy charges like a mother hen with reluctant chicks, Tess got the kids out of the house and into the van where there were pillows and blankets already waiting for sleepy heads.  Being a doctor down to her very marrow, Tess made sure that all the children were fastened into seatbelts, no matter their inclination to lie down and sleep.  She'd seen too many mangled bodies belonging to accident victims who weren't wearing their seatbelts to compromise on this issue.  Luckily, the kids _were half asleep, so it was fairly easy to get their limp little bodies to do what she wanted._

   As she headed back into the house, rubbing her bare arms against the cool night air, Tess glanced up at the night sky.  She sighed as she took a brief moment to stargaze.  Here, within city limits where the ambient light blotted out the dimmer stars, Tess could almost believe that each one was isolated in its own bit of sky, each free to exist without the interference of the others.  Each surrounded by darkness, yet thriving.  Each surrounded like hundreds of others like themselves, yet alone.  "I'm always alone.  Right now I just want to be alone by myself."

   "You know, talking to yourself is one of the first signs that you're well down the path to going loco."

   Tess didn't know why she was startled.  Somewhere in the back of her mind she told herself that she should have known better; that Sands couldn't have possibly slept through four people (three of whom were children) tromping through the room where he was sleeping.  

   She turned her face from the stars to where he was standing on the porch.  He was fully dressed for the first time since the Day of the Dead.  His clothes weren't necessarily form-fitting, so his lean form lacked the aura of danger that had covered him that day, but he was still a hard man to overlook.  He was dressed in a pair of dark grey slacks, a light grey t-shirt, and a black suit coat.  He had a cream colored hat on his head, and the brim, while somewhat misshapen from being in a suitcase for so long, was still able to shade part of his face.

   "Did you hear me, or are the voices in your head drowning out everything else?"

   _Was that a random insult, or does he suspect something?  To cover her discomfort and preoccupation, she replied as best she could under the circumstances.  "Most men are within a finger's breadth of being mad."_

   "Is that a fact?"

   _Surely it isn't right that anyone out of their teens should be able to sound **that** disbelieving.  Something about the drawl he had used sent shivers down Tessa's spine.  Or perhaps is was a mix of his tone and the week's worth of facial growth he'd had her shape into a crude goatee.  It hadn't looked as interesting when he'd been dressed in a pair of Looney Tune boxers and a tank top._

   Again trying to cover her lack of response, Tess nodded.  Her eyes were caught once again by the stars overhead, and another quote she had memorized rose to the forefront of her mind.  "Light thinks it travels faster than anything, but it is wrong.  No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."  She was unsure whether she was talking about the stars or her own precarious mental state.  "Let me get Lena, and then we'll be ready to go.  Do you need to use the restroom before we go?"

   "Gee, ma, I think I'm old enough to use the john before I wet myself."  Sands shifted his weight from one foot to the other; the battered pair of running shoes he was wearing made scuffling sounds against the wooden slats of the patio.  In a less mocking voice he added, "I'm not one of your adoptive orphans, niña, so you can drop the act."  There was a tone of warning to his comment, but it wasn't obvious enough for Tess to catch with half her mind elsewhere.

   Resisting the urge to ask 'what act,' she queried, "Do you have any family you want me to call to come look after you?"  Sands didn't answer, but his face and body grew very still.  Tess waited several more seconds before continuing, "Then you _are someone I've taken in, and I've already accepted the responsibility.  I'll admit that you're more capable of looking after yourself than the children, but I do feel responsible for your well-being.  It's too late to change that."  There was a trace of wistfulness in her voice that she and Sands identified at the same time.  _Oh god.  Why did that seem to carry more truth than I wanted it to?_  Tess went into a momentary panic that Sands would press her for more, but he didn't.  Not that she believed that he wouldn't later.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I wouldn't want to forget the baby."_

Sands heard skittering footsteps as Tess hurried past him and into the house.  And frankly, he was relieved.  Over the past four days, Sands had spent a lot of time listening to Tess.  He'd listened as she worked, listened as she told stories to the kids, listened as she hummed aimlessly, listened as she spent time teaching English to Marcos and whichever of the other kids who could sit still long enough for the lesson.  He had listened as she spoke in endless riddles to herself, listened as she confirmed details with her friend, and listened with muted delight as she jumped every time she found him hovering behind her.  Through all this listening, he'd figured out several things about her character; she was a bit high-strung, she'd obviously spent a lot of time reading to know so many quotes and stories, she was extremely patient almost to the point of being spineless – the only time she'd scolded him for lurking had been the time he'd surprised her in the shower – and she had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility.  Not once in the past week could he remember her going to bed before everyone in the house was settled for the night, nor could he remember her putting off doing something simply because she didn't like the idea of doing it.

   Sands had also noticed Tessa's nervous ticks.  The way she tapped her fingers if he questioned her about something he'd overheard and was willing to get upset over if she gave him provocation, the continued hesitance in her step whenever she entered a room he was already in, the way she straightened whatever mess happened to be nearby if he brought up the cartels or the Day of the Dead, and her continued and growing dependence on quotes to carry on a conversation.  

   It was that last that had intrigued him the most.  She seemed to constantly need some sort of audio stimulation.  As he had listened to her hum and talk her way through the past days, he had started to wonder if she even knew that she did it.  If she wasn't making any sounds herself, then there was usually a TV or radio on somewhere in the house providing white noise.  Sands would give anything to learn what she was trying to avoid hearing.  Just what was hiding behind so many meaningless and nonsensical quotes?

   **_Maybe she's just so old that she's half deaf._**

_   No, that's not it.  If she were half deaf, she'd talk louder or ask people to repeat things._

His inner voice gave a mental shrug.  **_Maybe it's got something to do with all those pills she takes day and night.  Too bad you can't snoop in her medicine cabinet.  Well, you can, you just wouldn't be able to read the labels._**

   Sands tried to ignore the voice, irritated that it had decided to latch onto this topic.  Avoidance of this very scenario had been one of the reasons he'd spent so much time brushing up on his ability to remain a part of the background while hearing everything of importance – well, that and a knowledge that a thorough understanding of the layout of this new 'beat' could come in handy should any unwanted guests come knocking before they left.

   **_Don't think that you were distracting me, Sands.  I was just waiting until I had your full attention.  _Conversationally, it continued.  **_You know, you really screwed it up back there, with Barillo and all.  And most people would say that having your eyes drilled out of their sockets with sharp instruments is rather permanent.  Yourself included.  I remember when you were content to simply kill as many of the cartel as you could before you bit the dust.  But now you think that a scatterbrained and most likely insane Mexican señorita is going to be able to help you change all that._**  The voice let out a low, nasty chuckle.  ****_Well, I'd advise you not to get your hopes up Shel-don.  I think you, me, and the dark are going to be on a first name basis for some time to come._  There was a pause before it continued.  ****_Of course, being blind in the _****_U.S._****_ is better than being blind in some little town in _****_Mexico_****_.  At least back home you can collect disability and Welfare._**

   _Fuck you._

_   **You fucked us both over a week ago when you had to go and share your plan with that bitch you were bedding.  Not your smartest move.**_

   "Ready to get moving?"

   Sands spun around as if she had caught him off guard.  As he did so, he started to lost his balance, so it was with his arms flailing in the arm that he demanded, "What the hell did you just say?"

   Tess looked at her patient oddly for a few seconds, amazed that she'd actually managed to startle the master of surprise.  She also wondered just what he'd been thinking that had caused him to reply to her so violently.  "I know what I am fleeing from but not what I am in search of."  Who knew what was going on in that head that had so recently been blinded.

   Was is her imagination, or did the set of Sands' shoulders relax a fraction before he said, "I don't know what you're trying to imply chiquita, but if you're telling me that you're ready to go, then don't let me stop you.  You undoubtedly know the way to the car better than I do." 

   Careful not to wake the baby on her shoulder, Tess shrugged and stepped off the low porch, her footsteps firm.  If Sands wasn't going to ask for help, she wouldn't offer any.  Well, not beyond the cautionary warning she gave everyone who knew she was here: "Be careful of where you step – there's a lot of holes."  At some point in time, the grass behind the house had actually been alive, but it had been allowed to grow freely.  The result was a layer of tall, dead grass that hid all the holes lying in wait for the unwary.  She herself had managed to twist her ankle the first week after she'd moved in.  Sands didn't answer her, but she noticed that he was walking directly behind her.  Accepting this, she ground her feet into the rocky earth, making her steps a bit more audible.

"So, where'd you go to school, señorita?"

   Tess glanced over at the man half reclined in the passenger seat.  They'd left the city behind some twenty or thirty minutes ago.  The highway that led down the Mexican coast was mostly deserted, and the classical music she had playing on the radio didn't do much to relieve the silence coming from the back seat or the hum of the car as is rolled over the pavement.  Returning her eyes to the road, she answered, "I went to school in the states."

   From the corner of her eye, she saw him flip her off.  "Yeah, you'd said that much already."

   "Then why are you asking me again?"

   "Let's just say I have nothing better to do than to poke my nose in your business."

   Tess was quiet for a moment before commenting, "Of all men's miseries the bitterest is this, to know so much and to have control over nothing."

   That stung.  It reminded Sands too much of his current condition.  He'd known all about the cartel's plans, and the movement of Marquez' army, and of "El's" grudge.  What he hadn't known of was Ajedrez' loyalties.  Which brought him to his next point.  "Knowledge is power, if you know it about the right person."  Sands liked that quote, considered it one of his creeds.  A person could get away with murder if only he knew the right information about the right people.

   "Knowledge without conscience is the ruination of the soul."

   "I thought we had already discussed that particular subject."  Tess didn't answer, which Sands assumed meant she didn't have a quote for that particular comment.  He waited for her to go on the defensive again, and when she didn't he took that as unwilling acceptance for him to question her.  "So, where did you go to school?"

   "Harvard."  The word was pulled from her mouth as easily as food is pulled from the hand of a starving man.

   Impressed, Sands raised his eyebrows, then regretted it as the move caused the fine cotton weave of the bandages to send pathways of fire around and into his empty sockets.  Holding back a gasp, he asked, "A Crimson are you?"

   Tess didn't like the breathless quality to her patient's voice, but knew another offer of painkillers would be turned down.  Sands didn't want to be hopped up on drugs, afraid that it would impair his mind and senses.  She understood, but disagreed; pain could alter reality as surely as the most effective painkiller.  "You could say that, although I was never one for school spirit."  _Maybe if I keep talking, he'll settle down and be able to focus on something else.  Although if things get worse, I'll talk him into taking something.    "That's not to say I didn't go to a game or two.  I just didn't go to support the team."_

   "What'd you go for?"

   "Let's see . . . ."  Did she really want to tell him?  She'd pulled some crazy stunts with Logan.  "Once we –"

   "Who's 'we'?"

   "Me and Logan.  Anyway, we snuck into the other team's locker room, and stole their mascot's costume.  And another time we replaced half the baseballs for a play-off game with balls we'd hollowed out and filled with . . . umm, I think we used PreparationH."  Her companion was doing a poor job of smothering his laughter.  "And one other time I went to provide the get-away car after Logan had talked a bunch of our friends into mooning the field-hockey team."  She laughed.  "Logan was the one who got me started on my daily jogs.  I discovered I needed them to build up enough stamina to outrun angry athletes, among other nearly felonious reasons."

   "Why, chiquita.  I didn't know you had it in you."

   Tess was focused on passing a semi, so wasn't thinking when she answered, "After so many years at the compound I had a lot of stuff in me.  Mainly an overwhelming sense of freedom whenever it was granted.  Not that it ever lasted long.  I always had to go back."

   "Compound?"

   Sands' voice wasn't necessarily loud or heavy with peril, but it carried a hint of suspicion that was sharper than the finest scalpel.  Tess realized what she had just said, and cursed herself.  The easiest thing to do would be to lie to cover her tracks, but she found herself unable to do so.  She owed this man more than lies, but the truth would destroy any chance of helping him that she had.  "Yes.  I told you that I was taken in by the cartel as a child.  That wasn't always the case.  I remember living in a small town somewhere near a forest as a young child, when I was three or four.  But eventually my Father went to work for the cartel, and that's when I was moved from my home to the compound.  For training, among other things."  All of this was true, just not detailed.  Tess did remember living in a small village somewhere on the edge of a rain forest-like area, and she remembered the move to the cartel's main compound.  The only obscure bit was the part about her father – she didn't think it was wise to mention that he'd become the new leader after killing his uncle, and that he'd decided that she could fill a role for his own successor.  Barillo had always been one to look after the long-term.  How this man had managed to throw a monkey wrench into his plans, she still couldn't fathom.  "Needless to say, it was a grim place to grow up.  And if you wanted to survive, you grew up fast."

   "You knew Armando Barillo?  Personally?"  Another tricky question.  There was a more overt edge to his voice now, one that warned her that she was balancing on a blade of ice.  Well, Tess was used to precarious balancing acts.  She could handle this one.

   "No.  I didn't know him.  I knew _of_ him, but I was never close enough to him to actually know him."  Again, all true.  Despite the fact he'd donated half her genetic makeup, she'd never known the man.  He'd held her at arm's length, disgusted by her for some reason she couldn't fathom.  She'd seen how harsh he could be, how cruel, how unforgiving.  But there had to have been more to the man than that.  There had to have been some side of him that he had shown to Ajedrez that had made the other woman so loyal and devoted to him.  Tess just wasn't sure what that side was.  "All the time that I was with the cartel, I just tried to avoid him."  

   After the first time, that was.  She'd been barely five years old when she'd been summoned to the compound in the foothills of the Sierra Madres.  Her nurse had told her that her father had asked her to come, that he finally wanted to meet his daughter, and she'd been so happy.  And being an innocent, she'd run up to the man once he'd been pointed out to her, and she'd tried to hug him.  What she'd gotten for her trouble was a broken wrist from being thrust away from the only parent she knew of.  She hadn't even cried, she'd been so stunned, so bewildered.  What had she done?

   At times, Tessa still wondered that.  Twenty-five years later, and she still couldn't figure out what she'd done to be treated so harshly.  Maybe it was just some flaw less visible than her blue eyes.  A layer of dirt that didn't show on her dusky skin.  Some sort of invisible failing that followed in her very shadow.  "Anyway, as you can imagine, I went a bit wild with my first taste of freedom.  It didn't matter that it was limited.  It was still better than anything I'd felt before in my life."

   "Are you telling me that there's a wild girl hiding somewhere under that professional exterior of yours?" So full of twists, his little angel of death.  Just as he thought that he had her figured out – that he'd managed to ferret out all her motivations and thinking processes – she added another jumbled layer to her psyche.  Sands had never considered that she'd actually been raised in the very bosom of the cartel.  He'd thought that she'd been raised on some marijuana farm somewhere, then had been sent away for training when it became apparent that she had an aptitude or interest in medicine.  But no, she'd spent her childhood is the shadow of none other than the cartel leader himself.  It made Sands wonder what she was capable of.  And she wasn't helping him unravel the puzzle.

   When several minutes went by without Tess answering his somewhat suggestive question, Sands tried another approach.  "So you don't follow the old team?"

   "No.  It's hard enough to keep in contact with the few friends I kept from college.  I was never much of a team player.  It's just that sometimes I found it was better to be around others than it was to be alone.  Silence has a way of being too loud at times."

It was true that silence could be loud.  Sands, to distract himself from the discomfort that the drive was causing, questioned Tess about her background, history, musical preferences, and scores of other topics.  There were many questions that Tess chose not to answer out of a feeling that doing so would endanger her plans to help Sands. Others she ignored because she thought that an honest answer would simply give away more than she was willing to reveal to this man.  If he truly believed that knowledge of the right people was power, then he obviously thought that she needed to be kept under a tight rein.

   His interrogation had lasted most of the four hour drive, but it was the intermittent silences that were distressing her the most.  She knew that with every question she didn't answer, he gleaned something else about her.  She would have preferred he didn't talk at all, but the silence of the empty car was too much for her to stand.  So she had listened to the man's questions, and answered when it suited her.  

   It was with a strong sense of relief that Tess pulled into the parking lot of a motel on Mazatlán's outskirts.  From its appearance, she guessed that it was a step below a Motel 6.  But it had cable and a pool – and most importantly vacancies – so she parked the van and went inside to see about renting a room.

   Using her own fake ID to get the room and using cash to pay for it, Tess returned to the van with two room keys and several complementary bottles of water.  Handing one to Sands in the front seat, she said, "This seems to be as good a place as any to stay for a few hours until it's time to meet the plane at the airport."

   "What time are we supposed to meet the plane?"

   "Umm . . . four o'clock.  And it's about five thirty now.  I thought this would be a good place to keep the kids entertained.  They can swim, and watch TV.  And you can get some sleep."

   "I've gotten a bit more sleep that you have, niña."  It seemed as if he had spent more of the past week asleep than awake, and the inactivity grated on him.

   "I'm fine.  Besides, I'll be able to sleep on the plane."

   Of course she would say that.  "How many hours of sleep have you had in the past two days?"  If she insisted upon being stupid, then the least he could do was give her hell for being so.

   Tess took a moment to think about his question.  Upon reflection, the number was disturbingly low.

   "How many, chiquita?  How many hours in the last forty-eight have you spent with your eyes closed?"

   "Seven or eight."  Actually, eight hours was pushing the limits of believability, but it sounded better than six.

   "Tired people make mistakes, niña.  And now really isn't the time to risk being stupid."

   "And if I go to sleep, who will watch the children?  I took them in for a reason, señor.  They're my –"

   "Your responsibility," he interrupted.  "You've mentioned that a time or two.  What good are you to them if you start hallucinating because of sleep deprivation?  You say you're a doctor, so you should know better than to run yourself ragged."

   "Not all hallucinations are caused by a lack of sleep, señor.  And not all minds are fooled by tempting voices.  I'll be fine.  Do you want to stay here while I get the children to the room, or would you like to join us?"

   Sands shrugged.  Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't give a damn if _la chiquita_ wanted to gamble with her mental health, but these were anything but normal circumstances.  He may not want to admit it, but his current wellbeing depended on this woman keeping her wits about her.  From what he could tell, this was a difficult endeavor for her on a daily basis without throwing in a lack of sleep.  Once he was safely back on US soil, he didn't care if she stayed up until she had mental breakdown – right now he had to make sure she got in a nap at some point before they left for the airport.

   "I'll come with you."  For the first time, Sands blessed being in close quarters with this odd woman.  It would be easier to wear her down.  Or knock her unconscious.  Whatever the situation may call for.

Despite her resolution to remain awake for the nine or so hours before they had to leave for the airport, Tess dozed off once or twice.  Sands, to her consternation, was sticking close to the group.  She'd expected him to stay in the room, recovering from the drive and listening to the news, or something like that.  Instead, he shadowed her down to the pool when the kids decided they'd had enough of cartoons. 

   It was sitting by the pool that had gotten her in trouble.  The kids were perfectly content to entertain themselves with water games.  The wife of the hotel manager had dug out a small wading pool that she and Tess filled with a few inches of water for Selena to play in.  Sands was sitting in a nearby deck chair, the bandages off of his face for the first time, sunglasses firmly straddling his nose, suit coat left in the room in diffidence to the warm sun.  Unless someone removed them, they wouldn't know that he was blind; he appeared to be watching the kids like any responsible adult would.  Tess, sitting in another chair – one that required one to lounge more than sit upright – had dozed off as the sun made her comfortably warm.  

   The first few times she had caught herself sliding towards sleep, she jerked her head upright, and held her eyes wide open.  Sleep wasn't an option at the moment.  Just because she had reason to believe that they hadn't been followed from Culíacan to Mazatlán was no reason to stop being vigilant.  The cartel still had employees in the area, and it was possible that one or two of them would know her.  After waking herself up for the fifth time, Tessa had gotten up and walked around, making several laps around the small courtyard.  It kept her awake for about ten minutes after sitting back down.  Sleep had beckoned irresistibly though, and Tess finally gave in, her eyes sliding shut against the sun's glare.

   _The sun was hot.  It was always hot.  But today it was worse.  This morning she'd been caught without her blindfold.  Tess couldn't have been more than fourteen or so at the time, and she was well used to living without her sight, but there had been a thunderstorm the night before, and she had thought that just once – just once – it would be nice to watch lightning split the sky without it being a punishment.  She'd waited until the height of the storm had passed, waiting for her father to show up and remove the blindfold to make her watch, but he never came.  With trembling fingers she had lifted the scrap of silk-lined canvass from her eyes.  She was smart enough not to open them for several minutes.  The blue-white bolts of electricity would fry her retinas, causing more pain that was believable.  When she had judged that enough time had passed for her eyes to adjust, she'd opened them a crack.  The storm was just passing over the mountains, providing a dramatic backdrop to the craggy heights.  It was beautiful.  Almost worth being caught.  The small rebellion had almost been worth it._

_   Or at least it had been a few hours before.  Now Teresa had been out in the sun all day long without shade, water, sunscreen, or relief.  Her skin was red with sunburn, her mouth was too dry for her to talk, and her head ached with the glare of the sun on the white-granite courtyard.  Her head was fuzzy, her thoughts so scrambled that she could have sworn she was hearing voices.  Well, not voices exactly, just the one that normally whispered in the back of her head.  The one that spoke all the thoughts she tried to hide from herself.  Most of the time she thought this was her conscience and that everyone had to put up with its interfering.  But now she wasn't so sure._

_   **Hello Teresa.**  She refused to talk back to herself.  **I know you can hear me.  I know how bored you are . . . how lonely.  Why don't you talk to me?  I'll be your friend.**  Tess didn't reply, unsure about how one went about telling a voice in your head that you didn't want it there.**  Talk to me?**  She didn't.  She wouldn't.  She no longer thought this was normal.  Perhaps this is why her father didn't love her.  **Don't you want to be my friend, Teresa?**  No she didn't want to be its friend.  **If you're not my friend, then I'll make you my enemy.  I'll make you your own enemy.  Do you want that?  Of course you don't.  Come play with me Tessa . . . come play with me and ignore everything else.  Come play, come play, come play . . . .**  No.  No, she didn't want to play.  She wanted to be normal.  She wanted to be like everyone else.  She wanted to be like her sister.  "No."_

"No."  Sands heard the quiet yet insistent desperation in Tessa's voice. 

   "What's wrong, niña?"

   "No.  Go away.  Please.  I don't want to listen any more."  She wasn't talking to him and her voice was getting louder.  Cursing, Sands pulled a gun out of his pant pocket, and demanded, "Kid, left or right?"  If there was someone here who had sent Tess into a panic, then they were in serious trouble.

   "What are you talking about, señor?"  It dawned on Sands that while Tess sounded distressed, the kids were still playing.  Their laughter and yells denied the existence of a problem.

   "Never mind, go back to whatever you were doing."  The woman was having nightmares again.  Did she ever manage to sleep and _not_ have them?  That was a stupid question coming from the man who couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up and not been in a cold sweat.

   Cautiously walking forward, Sands advanced on Tessa's position, pistol still at the ready just in case there was some threat that the kids hadn't identified.  His shins banged into the edge of Tessa's chair.  But before he could locate her with his hand, she jerked upright in her chair, slamming into his arm; his bullet wound complained at the rough treatment.

   "Oh, God."  Sands got the impression that Tess was praying, not cursing.  "Not now.  I can't take it now."

   "Take what?"  He heard a startled intake of breath.  Had she really not noticed that she'd run into him when she'd woken up?  Or had the blow been relegated to the realm of sleep?

   "Nothing.  I'm fine.  I'll be fine."  Tess remembered Sands suggesting that a lack of sleep would produce hallucinations.  She remembered that she'd laughed.  She'd laughed because he hadn't understood that she didn't fear the hallucinations that came when she was awake.  The hallucinations, the _hallucination_, that she feared had come, had started one summer day in Mexico as she'd started to fall asleep under the sun.  And she still hadn't managed to wake up.

   The voice in the back of her head laughed.

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**Quotes: Aeschylus; Death (?); Diogenes; Reaper Man, Terry Pratchett; Michael de Montaigne; Herodotus; Ethel Watts Mumford; Francois Rabelais**

**Author's Thanks:**  thanks to **TaraRose, **Miss** ****Becky, ****Merrie, **kinkyfrodo**, ****Trish, ****Blank, **Bitchy** ****Little ****Pixy, **Ashley** (my beloved and hardworking beta), and **kaliko**, who wanted to know if I was dead.  : )**

New reviewers this chapter are: **Vaughn, **kiare**, ****bboarding232, ****Lisa, **Adrejon**, and ****Marie.  It was great to hear from all of you.  Normally I'd try to write a little note to each of you, but I'm pressed for time at the moment.  Just know that I was rooting for you . . . . wait, wrong movie.  : )   Anyway, each of you brightened my day, and I appreciate you all more than you know.**


	19. Hustle and Bustle

**Author's Note: I've nothing of much importance to say, except that the last chapter was supposed to be dedicated to 'Pixy' for her suggestion that Sands would want to know as much as possible about this new woman in his life, and that this chapter is dedicated to Merrie for her constant begging on new SJ/Tess material (^_^), and that each and every chapter only makes it here because of my wonderful and delightfully funny beta, Ashley.**

**Read the chapter.**

**Author's thanks at end.**

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The airport was crowded and it was noisy.  It was an easy place to get lost in, especially if one couldn't see.  Tess glanced over her shoulder; Sands was still immediately behind her.  If she were to stop at this very instant, he'd collide with her in a heartbeat.  She wondered just how he was managing to stay so close to her with such assurance.  _I could handle being blind around the house, but I faltered when things got too noisy there.  Especially in the entrance hall with all its echoes.  I'd be terrified to move here.  She shrugged.  __For all I know, he is terrified.  He's a hard man to read._

   Tess shifted Selena on her hip slightly, and gripped René's hand a bit tighter as a group of American tourists came their way.  She'd discovered, to her chagrin, that the boy liked to lose himself in large crowds.  The last time it'd happened, Marcos had retrieved him before Tessa had even noticed his absence – that didn't do too much for her self-esteem.

   **_I told you you wouldn't be able to do it.  Some guardian you're going to be if you're losing kids before you even make it out of the country.  You can't even keep a good grip on your own mind.  What makes you think you're going to do any better with children?_  Tess could tell that her voice was peeved that she'd taken such dramatic steps to quiet it earlier in the week.  For the past few days it had been back to its old self, except now it was angry at her for making it submit.**

   _I'll learn.  Nobody is a perfect parent when they first start out, and they get to start with one child, usually, not three half grown ones and an infant.  Besides, Marcos is helping me._

_   **Great.  You're depending on the help of a ten-year-old.  Why don't you just give up now?  It'd be easier.**_

****_I promised.  She didn't know which promise she was referring to; looking after the children, helping Sands, or the promise she'd made to herself to never give in quietly to her other side._

   The voice gave a mental shrug.  **_Suit yourself._**

"Tía Teresa, my feet hurt."  Alma's voice was plaintive and pitiful, designed to convince Tess that the girl was in the throws of extreme suffering but was enduring it like a good little martyr.  Not that Tess really blamed the girl; they'd been walking about the airport aimlessly for over an half and hour now.  The plane that Logan promised was going to be an hour late due to high winds in the LA area.

   _Might as well sit down as wander around.  True, this is the first real chance I've had to stretch my legs in days, but it must be boring for the children.  "Okay, Alma.  We'll take a break."  _And it would probably be good for Sands to rest.  He's managed this far, but the last thing I need is for him to collapse on me in the middle of the airport.  That would raise too many unneeded complications for my peace of mind._  Reaching behind her with one hand, Tess tugged lightly on one of the labels of Sands' jacket, hoping he'd get the cue that she was changing direction.  Just incase he didn't, Tess turned before saying, "We'll go sit down over there."  __There, he should be able to at least follow the sound of my voice._

   "Over there" was a smallish lounge area that was most likely more uncomfortable than it looked.  Tess saw Sands grimace as he sat down, then made her own face when she discovered that the chairs were not only unsoftened by the bright floral pattern on the seats and backs, but that the backrest reached uncomfortably only to her middle back.  She was only shorter than Sands by an inch or so – if the seat was uncomfortable for her, then it was for him as well.  But there wasn't much she could do about that.

   However, she could do something for the kids that were now swarming her with random demands.  She handed out juice boxes and bags of apple slices and grapes, not to mention books, and coloring books, and markers.  She'd come prepared for the flight and the wait that they might have to endure.  She might not have had kids around for long, but she had learned that much.

   Tessa was about to ask if Sands wanted some Ibuprophen or something, but the look on his face made her think twice about that idea.  Instead, she dug out a bottle of formula she'd mixed at the hotel and started feeding Lena.  The baby was fussy from missing her afternoon nap.  _You and me both, kid._  She tried to relax into the chair, but the rim dug right into her spinal cord.  Sighing, she stood up and started pacing, humming absentmindedly under her breath, hoping the baby would sleep for just a little bit.

   _Hush little baby, don't say a word/Papa's gonna buy you a mocking bird./And if that mocking bird don't sing,/Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring . . . .  Tess switched to another song.  The fairy tale was meant to comfort, but it was nothing more than hollow disillusionment for her.  The most her father would have done along those lines was shoot the man who'd sold a defective mockingbird._

   _Rock-a-bye, in the treetop/When the wind blows the cradle will rock/When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall/And down will come baby cradle and all . . . .  It was a long and painful fall.  Why did lullabyes talk about things like this?_

   **_You're bitter and cynical today.  I like it._**

   _Will you just shut the hell up for once?_

Apparently the voice was content that it had gotten her to curse; it left her alone.  And Tess, having learned that lullabyes were not her forté, decided to switch to Mexican folksongs.  She was halfway through a song about a clever fox and Quetzalcoatl, the Mayan god, when a figure across the walkway caught her eye.  The nagging sensation in the back of her mind wasn't a good one, but she stopped to stare at the man anyway.

   His back was turned to her, but there was something about the set of his shoulders and the hand bouncing something in his pocket that tugged at her memory.  _No!_  The man was beginning to turn just as his identity popped into her head.  This was someone she definitely didn't want to be seen by.

   Tightly clutching Selena to her, Tess spun around . . . only to run smack dab into Sands.  Instinctively, he reached out to steady her, while at the same time, she reached for his head and pulled it down to her shoulder, making sure that she wasn't  rough in her haste.

   "What the hell are you doing," he gasped, trying to hear over the blood rushing into his ears.  That had _hurt_.

   "Tell me, is there any reason the cartel would be looking for you?  And would they recognize you if someone were?"  There were three possibilities – either the man was looking for her, he was looking for Sands, or he was there by coincidence.  Tessa didn't believe in coincidences.  She'd seen too many men like her father who arranged 'coincidences' to their best interests.  The arm that wasn't around his neck was holding Lena, who thankfully wasn't fussing yet.

   "I thought you were the expert on the cartel around here."  Sands tried to pull his head up, but she had her hand wrapped in the hair at the base of his skull.  It would take too much effort to free himself, yet the feeling of being trapped was unsettling.

   "I am.  Trust me, there's a man over there that you don't want to see you."  Tess had turned her face into Sands' neck when she'd decided to use him as cover.  If that man was who she thought he was, and he was here for the reason she thought he was, then he wouldn't be looking for a couple.  But she knew she wasn't going to able to do this for long.  Her psyche was already rebelling against the close proximity of another person just as strongly as Sands was.

   **_Bad things happen when you get too close to people,_** it whispered, bringing images of past horrors to her mind.

   _I know . . . but what's he going to do in the middle of a crowded airport?_  She tightened the hand in his hair she felt his head once again shift, then relaxed as she realized he wasn't trying to pull away.  

   "So, who is this guy?  An old boyfriend?  Jealous lover?  Spurned recipient of unrequited love?"

   "His name is Salvatore Keel, and he's a bounty hunter who's on the cartel's payroll.  He ignores any posts that come up on their people, and goes after the ones they want to get their hands on."  Tess decided that a risk had to be taken.  Ever so slowly, she turned her head from Sands' neck, letting her hair curtain her face.  The rest of the airport slowly came into view.

   All she could see for a moment was a blur of motion; tourists and natives alike, hurrying and bustling as if lives depended on their speed – or at least check-in times.  It was all chaos of the most orderly fashion and Tess hated it.  She'd much rather be somewhere where people were still, although the downside of that was that then people were often quiet as well so there was no sound to distract her.  

   **_Keel._**__

_   Right.  Sorry._  Tess turned her head a little bit more, her hair slipping from before her eyes but still hiding the lower part of her face.  Her temple was now resting against her companion's shoulder.  She could feel his shoulders rising and falling as he breathed.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, a indistinct worry faded.  His breathing was no longer catching in this throat with pain, although there was no guarantee that things would stay that way.

Sands hated that this woman was using him for cover.  He wasn't sure why – he'd used others as a smokescreen before and never thought about how they felt to be the ones being used.  And he knew that she wasn't even trying to use him; she'd just turned to him for help as naturally as she helped others.  Maybe that was the part that stung at him – the way that she was trusting him not to make a wrong move.  He wasn't even quite sure that he trusted himself to do that anymore.

   **_What you hate is that she's trying to help you, and you don't like the way she'd going about it.  Especially since she's being so pushy.  Holding you down.  Can you feel the panic rising?  Are you going to freak right out?_**

****God, that voice was getting annoying.  Even though he hated to ask, hated to admit that he needed help deciphering what was going on around him, Sands asked, "What's taking you so long?  Forgotten what your old friend looks like?"  Let her prove him wrong.

   Her head shook on his shoulder, and Sands felt a twinge go through him.  When was the last time someone had held him like this?

   **_Not long enough.  She's just trying to help you – we all know what the side affects of her assistance are; confusion and a general pain in the ass.  Get your head in the game Sheldon, and ignore the twit._**

   "I can't find him."  Tess didn't know whether to be relieved or concerned.  She was a believer of keeping one's enemies where they could be seen, but the further away Keel was from her and her little group the better.  Reluctantly, Tess turned her head back towards Sands, hoping that they appeared like a happy couple.  She didn't need suspicious or judging eyes turned their way.

   As she turned her head, she caught a whiff of his scent.  For the most part, he'd been using her toiletries, so he didn't smell too dissimilar from her, but there was enough of a twist to make her mind take notice: the smell of smoke, a faint trace of sweat on his skin, the drowsy, musty scent of clothes that had been packed away for a long period of time.  While she was growing more uncomfortable by the moment, made uneasy by the reminders that this man was in her care but not dependent on her, she kept turning her head.  The last thing she wanted was for Keel to mistakenly see her or Sands.

   When the slight goatee on his face brushed roughly against her forehead, she stopped.  Pulling her head back a few inches, she murmured, "I need to check the other side.  He could've moved.  Be sure to hide your face."  She felt him sigh with irritation, but he did as she directed, moving his head to the other side of hers, resting it against her shoulder.

   She cautiously glanced around the room, trying to ignore the feeling of protectiveness that was welling up inside her.  With the children it was welcome.  However, she knew that Sands neither wanted it nor would appreciate it.  To him she was nothing more than a second-rate doctor with a peculiar view of the world.  Her eyes landed on each of the children, each still involved in their own activity and paying Sands and her no mind.  Ruthlessly, she squashed the rising tide of care that was trying to sway her.  Her only job was to get Sands to LA in one piece.  After that they both had their own agendas.  Her job would be done, she would have nothing more to offer.

   **_Faithless is he who says farewell when the road darkens._**

****_The greatest harm can result from the best intentions.  What would he do if I stuck around?  I've seen him in enough pain – this recovery isn't going to be a miracle.  It'll be painful.  I've taken enough from him by helping him; I won't stay and take more.  Fish and company start to stink after three days._

_   **You know you're fascinated.  You want to stay.  When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I've never tried before.  You should try it sometime.**_

****She couldn't spot Keel anywhere.  Lifting her head slowly, she moved her arm from Sands' head and intertwined it with his.  "Turn with me."  He did, but she could feel his muscles standing out from him frame like steel cables – he didn't like being touched, and she didn't blame him.  As soon as she deemed their faces safely out of sight from the general passerby, she let him go.  _A drug person can learn to cope with things like seeing their dead grandmother crawling up their leg with a knife in her teeth but, nobody should be asked to handle this trip._  It was true.  This venture of theirs' was raising too much for her to think about – she'd be glad once it was just her and her charges again.  Sands brought too many things the surface of her mind for her to ever be comfortable around him.

"Ma'am?"  Tess looked up from the magazine she'd been using to hide her sightless gaze and looked up at the woman in front of her.  She was dressed in the uniform of an airport employee, and Tessa remembered that she was the one she'd asked about the arrival of their flight.

   "Yes?"  She stretched.  _God, I hope the plane is here.  I don't think I can sit still for too much longer._  She'd resigned herself to sitting once she had discovered that Sands was bound and determined to stay on her heels.  She understood he was nervous and that he didn't want to admit it, but his constant shadowing of her was making her jumpy.  There had been a time in her life that the people following her had been not so innocent.

   "Your plane has just arrived."  The woman was obviously American.  Her creamy white skin showed just a hint of sun-kissed gold, and her hair color obviously had more to do with a bottle of peroxide than any time out in the sun.  "It's refueling as we speak, but if you'd like to follow me, I can get you started on your departure.  Get you through the security checkpoints, and take you to the person who will take you to your flight.  You're aware that you won't be boarding through a gate?"  Tess nodded, signaling the kids to pack away their belongings.  "Very good, if you'll just follow me?"

   Wearily, Tess climbed to her feet, once again settling Lena against her hip.  The baby was half-asleep and was starting to feel heavier than she actually was.  _Once I've recovered from my various shots, I need to start my routine again._  Just the thought of push-ups made her arms burn, but it needed to be done.  Her routine needed to resume.  Exercise helped keep things best kept at bay under control.

   "Giovanni.  Let's go."  Tess paused as she collected René's hand in hers, reaching out a foot to tap him gently on the ankle.  Once the man was upright, she waited for him to take a step behind her before following after the helpful airport employee.

   Walking through the airport after the other female, Tess had to smother a grin and remind herself to be vigilant.  Keel, if it had been Keel, hadn't necessarily seen them before, but that could change in a moment.  She really needed to keep an eye open for him.  It was just so hard though, when she was trying so hard not to laugh out loud.  The reason for her humor was that their guide was doing her best to attract Sands' attention without coming right out and hitting on him.  

   Tessa knew that the woman probably thought that they were involved in some way and was simply trying to engage in some harmless flirting.  But Sands, his condition being what it was, didn't notice.  He simply walked behind Tess, his head tilted down a bit as if he was watching where he was going.  The blond was getting more and more overt in her mock seduction; Tess was afraid she might dislocates something, her hips were swaying so dangerously.

   "Is something wrong with that woman?"

   Tess muffled a yelp when Sands voice sounded so close to her ear.  **_Way to go, Teresa.  If the guy not two inches behind you can sneak up on you, how much more damage can Keel do?  He could have a gun in your side before you knew what was happening.  Keep your head in the game, or I'll do it for you._**

****"She's fine.  Why do you ask?"

   "She walking strangely."

   Tess wanted to stop right where she was in amazement, but settled for looking around them instead.  Nothing but tourists in tasteless clothing met her eye.  _Hmm . . . something tells me that under normal circumstances, Sands would fit right in._  She'd gotten a peek at the contents of his suitcase and had been somewhat surprised.  Most of his clothing was a striking contrast between some of the most tacky t-shirts and shorts she'd ever seen and exceedingly dramatic black ensembles that ran along the same lines as what he'd been wearing when she'd first met him.  What he had now was the most generic of his clothing and he still managed to catch people's eyes, as the woman ahead of them could attest.

   Once the curiosity had calmed enough to disappear from her voice, she asked, "You can hear how she's walking?"  Tess glanced over her shoulder, wanting to confirm her suspicions and wanting to take her mind off how he appeared to others.  It was none of her business as long as no one took too much notice of them.

   He shrugged, seeming to say, "You got a problem with that?" so Tess let the matter drop.

   "Ma'am?"  Tess turned her head back to the woman.  She was standing beside a man who appeared to be a national, and while she was talking to Tess, her eyes were focused on Sands.  "Let me introduce you to Julio.  He'll be taking you the rest of the way.  I'm afraid that some other matters have arisen that need my attention."  **_Like getting yourself off?_  The voice sounded distinctly territorial, and that amused Tess.  _Hush.  You've no reason to get upset._  "But, I'm sure that Julio can take care of whatever your needs may be.  Thank you for –"**

   "Why aren't your eyebrows the same color as your hair?  Are you a natural blond?"  Alma had grown tired of standing around waiting to get on their flight, and being the outgoing person that she was, had just asked an extremely appropriate yet rude question.  Tessa knew she ought to chide the girl for her bad behavior, but she couldn't.  

   The woman showed she understood Spanish when she glared at Alma and then glanced at Tess, seemingly trying to decide if she could complain to her or not.  Tess donned her most expressionless face, the one that seemed to convey that anyone who asked her anything would get their heads bitten off – that her emotions were so tightly under control that distraction would make them erupt in the sort of disaster that hadn't been seen since Mt. St. Helens had unleashed her fury in a tail that could be told around the world.  Wisely, the woman decided to keep her mouth shut.

The most troublesome part of leaving the airport and making it onto the plane had been the security check.  Not that they hadn't passed easily enough – they had.  The kids had loved it, going through the metal detector several times before Tess made them stop and wait for her and Sands to go through.  The two adults had also passed inspection without any problems, but when the guards went to look through the backpack Tess had with her, she'd gotten nervous.

   Tess had known that any attempt to bring Sands' numerous guns through any kind of security checkpoint would be not only be useless, but would also raise hell amongst the security personnel.  Bust Sands had refused to leave them behind.  She'd tried to argue that they were going to be on friendly territory, but he'd simply laughed and told her that if she truly believed that then she was a bigger fool than he had imagined.  So the guns had come with them – only after Tess had gotten creative.

   **_Creative and foolhardy.  If even one person here remembers you and that information gets to someone like Keel, you can kiss all your plans good-bye.  You'll be dragged back to whatever is left of the cartel faster than you can say, 'oops.'_**

   Tess watched as one of the guards went through the backpack, dismissing the various children's activities and snack foods.  But when he uncovered the object at the bottom of the bag, he raised his head to give Tess and Sands a suspicious look.  "What's this?"

   "This" was a lead box that Tess had dug out of the trunk that held all her medical supplies.  Into it, she had loaded three of Sands' guns, leaving room for the one he had insisted upon carrying to the hotel.  The last of the guns had been either left at the house she'd been staying in, or she'd mailed to Logan.  But the guard didn't need to know that.  Making sure to meet the man's eyes steadily she answered, "It's a box."

   "I can see that, señora.  What's in it?"  He was trying to open it, but this was no ordinary box.  It was one Tess had picked up a year ago for it's special feature – it needed a key card to open it.

   "Extremely delicate tissue samples that I'm taking back to the States with me.  You're handling hundreds of thousands of dollars in research grant money there.  I hope you'll be a bit more delicate?"  The man glared at her.

   "I hope you don't mind of we x-ray it to corroborate your story?"

   "By all means.  But you won't discover much.  The box is lined with lead to keep radiation from harming the samples."

   The guards ignored her and put the box in the machine anyway.  All that came up on the screen was a blur inside a larger blur.  They turned and glared at her.  "Open it up."  They handed the box back to her.

   **_Now what?_**

   Tess put on the face that every medical student learns along with a cheery bedside manner – a look of arrogance and self-confidence that was supposed to make others feel inferior and vaguely stupid when talking to you.  "Clearly you didn't hear what I said earlier.  That box contains extremely fragile tissue samples.  Opening that box anywhere outside of a lab would result in the destruction of hundreds of thousands of dollars of government money.  US and Mexico government if you were wondering.  And without these samples, nearly a decade of research is going to be put on hold for _years_ until another sample can be procured.  Now, if you want to take responsibility for that, by all means, do what you think is necessary.  Or, you can simple take my word, examine my license, and let us get on our way."  The men looked chagrined but stubborn, and Tess had to admit that they were probably very good at their jobs.  It was just that this time she couldn't back out.

   Shuffling Lena in her arms, Tess managed to pull out her wallet and ID, along with her license.  She was careful to make sure that she grabbed the fake ones and not the real ones.  Leaving her name here would be a big mistake, especially if Keel started questioning people.  It was bad enough that these men had her description – she refused to surrender her name.

   "Dr. Tabita Gonzales," the man read aloud as he studied the papers.  Tess had gotten the doctored license some years ago so that she could prescribe medicines to patients without word getting back to her father.  The man and his partner scrutinized the papers carefully, taking their time over every validation.

   "Take a picture, it'll last longer."  Tess smiled as Sands made his irritation known.

   As for Sands, he was getting more uncomfortable and uneasy by the moment.  Holding up security was never a good thing, and he knew that the longer it took someone to fall for a line, the more likely it was that you were going to get caught.  He heard Tess murmur thanks and then heard someone repacking the backpack.

   "Thank you for you time, señor."  Tess reached back with one hand and lightly touched the back of Sands' hand, signaling that it was okay for them to go.  

   As they passed the checkpoint and followed their rather uninterested guide to the exit that would take them to the tarmac and then to the vehicle that would take them to their plane, Sands came up to walk alongside Tessa.  She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but he seemed disinclined to say anything.  That's why the arm that pulled her against his side was such a surprise.

   "Any fool can tell the truth, but it requires a man of some sense to know how to lie well."  His mouth was incredibly close to her ear, and it made Tess nervous.  This time she was the one who had no choice in being close to someone.  "In the future, _pequeña_, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave the lying to me."  She nodded jerkily, and he let her go and resumed his spot a step behind her.

   "There's no trace of her here.  Are you sure that information you got was correct?"  Salvatore Keel was a thorough man, one who rarely missed any trace his prey may have left behind.  If he hadn't been able to find the woman, then she probably wasn't here.  Which wasn't to say that she hadn't been here or that she wouldn't be here.  All he needed was time.  "About her arrival, I mean.  It makes sense for her to try to leave the country.  It's just that if she'd going to be arriving in another three hours, I'd like the time to make myself a little less conspicuous."

   "You have the information we have.  All I want is for you to find her.  I don't care how long it takes, or what your excuses are.  I don't care if you deliver her today or in a year.  I don't care where she is, find her.  We need her information if we're going to make any successful attempt at gaining control over Barillo's territory.  The men will respect the claim she represents.  I need her if I'm to bring any order to this mess and avoid as much bloodshed as possible.  I don't want a territory weakened by infighting.  This is all pointless if another cartel comes in and wipes up out.  I don't care what you have to do, where you have to go, or who you have to kill to get her – just get her."  Keel's boss hung up on him, and the man felt a surge of temper, but he controlled it.  Right now he had a job to complete.  He had to find Barillo's bastard daughter and return her to the arms of her loving family.

   Putting the cell phone away in his jacket pocket, Keel turned and looked out the window.  There was a private jet parked on a nearby tarmac, and there was a jeep headed towards it.  He almost dismissed the scene altogether – there were too many people for this to be the woman he was looking for.  He knew Teresa Barillo, knew her mannerisms.  She'd been a strange kid, but had always had a way of walking that indicated confidence while implying that the one doing the walking wasn't worth paying attention to.  Even as a child there'd been a cloud of  awareness that followed her every movement.  

   The jeep stopped and the passengers disembarked.  Keel was turning away, but something caught his eye. 

   There, on the edge of the group, was a lone woman.  She was thanking their driver and herding the group of kids up the steps to the plane hatch.  She let the stewardess at the top take charge of them as she turned to her companion – a man, as far as Keel could tell.  They looked to be discussing something, and by the set of his shoulders he was none too happy.  The woman took his arm, apparently trying to placate him, and she led him up the stairs while holding a baby in the other arm.  The man disappeared inside the jet, but the woman stopped to take a glance at her surroundings.

   _No.  Keel pulled out a small pair of binoculars and examined the woman.  A strong angular face jumped at him as he adjusted the focus.  Dark hair threw light-colored eyes into relief, and the set of the woman's shoulders erased any doubt he had of who he was looking at.  Barillo._

   There was no time to get down to the plane.  He briefly wondered how she'd escaped his notice, and then remembered the woman and man he'd watched for a bit earlier in the afternoon.  He'd dismissed them because he'd known that the Barillo woman hated to be touched, but apparently she'd gotten over that if she had four kids and a man with her.

   As he pulled out his cell phone top contact his employer again and as his mind started churning with all the ways he could follow the woman, Keel smirked.  _I always get what I'm looking for._

   "What do you mean he's disappeared off our map?  If there isn't a body and there isn't a living man around somewhere, you've missed something . . . .  Yes, I'm well aware that the cartels could have gotten him or that he could have been killed in the _coup, but Sands isn't that stupid.  If I know the bastard, he'd holed up somewhere, recuperating until he feels it's safe enough for him to come out . . . .  No, we can't just send someone else in.  Sands has the best intelligence on the cartels.  If we're going to destroy the Barillo cartel once and for all, then we need to get him.  So I don't care what it takes, but find him." _

   The man in the suit hung up his phone and left his office.  He ran his hands through graying ginger-colored hair and let out an irritated sigh.  Things were falling apart in Mexico, and their best agent was missing.  The agents in charge of watching his hotel room had caught a glimpse of a woman at his room, but they'd failed to detain her.  Or even follow her.

   _Damnit.  Where is that man?  William Colton, the man who had offered Sands the position in Mexico decided that his wayward agent had better have a damn good excuse for disappearing off the radar so thoroughly.  The man had concerned parents on his hands – concerned parents with connections.  If he didn't produce their son soon, he'd be in hot water._

   Sands was going to hear about all this in detail whenever he decided to reappear.  For his sake, it'd better be soon.

"Ms. Gonzales, we need to depart.  If you'll come inside the cabin?"  Tess turned her back on her last look of her home country.  Leaving didn't feel nearly as sad as it should.  Perhaps that was only because she'd never really felt at home here.  Nodding to the stewardess, Tess went to her seat and buckled in after making sure that the kids were safely settled.  Take-off wouldn't be too fun with a seven-month-old, but there was no avoiding it.  She had to leave.

   The engines started up and the plane started vibrating with the motion.

   "What are you thinking?"

   She turned to her companion is surprise.  What had inspired his sudden curiosity into her mental state?  Tess ran her eyes over Sands face and decided that the low vibrations were most likely wreaking havoc on his nervous system.  "Do you want something?"

   "An answer to my question."  She'd meant medication, but she wasn't surprised by his refusal of the offer.

   "You sure you want to know?"

   "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't."

   Tess shrugged and answered the man.  "We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams, wandering by lone sea breakers, and sitting by desolate streams; world-losers and world-forsakers, on whom the pale moon gleams: yet we are the movers and shakers of the world forever, it seems."

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**Quotes: **OUATIM, Tolkein, Ben Franklin, Mae West, Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas, Samuel Butler, and 'Ode' by O'Shaughnessy

**Thanks:**  Many thanks to **Merrie, **Scarlett** ****Burns, ****Trish, **TaraRose**, ****Pixy, ****Ashley and **Blank**.  You guys keep reviewing chapter after chapter, and just let me know that I do have some chronic readers.  : )**

Also, thanks to **marie and **Yuliya**, my two new reviewers for this chapter.  You guy encourage me by letting me know that there are NEW people reading this, and not just the ones I normally hear from.  Thanks much.  : )**


	20. FadeIn Out

**Author's Note: here it is, in less time than it took me to update last time.  (barely)  This should be a fun chapter.  Lots of interesting character interactions.  ^_^  Please let me know what you're thinking.  Input, feedback, random comments, and constructive criticism is always more than welcome.**

**Also – please don't stop sending me quotes and such.  Short stories, folklore that might apply, etc. is also welcome.  ^_^ Please send it to me via e-mail though.**

**Author's thanks at end.**

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_. . .world-losers and world-forsakers, on whom the pale moon gleams: yet we are the movers and shakers of the world forever, it seems._  Tess kept thinking about that line as the plane took off and the kids grew excited and her patient started drawing further and further into himself.  She'd definitely consider herself a world-loser, and she had the feeling that Sands was about ready to forsake the world.  And yet, the safety and immediate future of five people depended on her.  That responsibility stretched before her like an endless desert highway, and the sight was almost enough to send panic blazing through her mind.

**_   The possibility of physical and mental breakdown is now very real. No sympathy for the Devil, keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride._**

****_Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of __'This is the way the world ends/Not with a bang but a whimper.'  It's a bit calmer, and life – new growth – usually comes from the ending of one season._

_   **Can you be any more bucolic?**_  The voice sounded absolutely disgusted.

   "Tía Tessa, tía Tessa."  Insistent hands on her arm woke Tess from her inner musings.  She looked over to her side and at the young boy seated next to her.  René was excited about something. 

   "What is it, René?"

   "I wanna see the pirate."

   "The pirate?"

   "I think he means the 'pilot'."  Tess looked past her young charge and up into the face of an older woman in a uniform.  "Hi, my name is Tina.  I'm in charge of things here, and your friend, Dr. Pierce, mentioned that you had some youngsters with you.  I thought they might want to explore the plane.  If it's alright with you."

   The woman had dark hair that was just beginning to grey and her eyes were a kind, soft grey.  She seemed trustworthy, and there was little she could do to the children on while they were all on the plane.  Tess switched her gaze from Tina to René, and then to Alma and Marcos.  They all had the same hopeful expressions on their faces.

   _If it keeps them distracted for a bit, why shouldn't they be able to?  "Ok, that sounds nice.  If you wouldn't mind watching them for a bit . . . ."_

   The woman nodded, then leaned across René to speak directly to Tess.  "Dr. Pierce mentioned that you might want the option of taking a nap.  I can keep them busy for an hour or two, so don't worry about sleeping if that's what you want to do."

   Tess gave a wry smile.  "Sounds as if it's time I start listening to the counsel of others.  I think you may be the third or forth person to mention that I need sleep in as many days."  Looking at the kids as Tina stood upright once again, Tessa said in a louder voice, "Go on then.  Go have fun, but behave yourselves."  As the kids rapidly unbuckled themselves, Tess was glad to hear that Tina was fluent in Spanish.  Undoubtedly another detail that Logan had taken care of.  She'd have to have a word with him about playing big brother.

   _Right after we land – and I get some sleep._

   **_And Sands?  You're not being very attentive to his needs._**

****_Sands needs painkillers, but he doesn't want any.  I can't force them down his throat._

_   **But you could have fun trying.**_

   Tess rubbed her head, tired of the constant chatter, then looked at Sands.  He was sitting quietly in his seat, head rolling on his shoulder.  It appeared that he'd managed to fall asleep.  _See, he doesn't need me at the moment.  I can sleep._

   **_Aw, you want to visit me._**

****_No!  I want sleep.  Please.  Just go away for an hour or two.  Then I promise to listen to whatever it is you want to say to me._

_   **Deal!**_  

   Had she been any less tired, the triumphant glee in that single syllable would have caused her to change her mind.  But her eyes were already closing, and her mind was starting to drift.  Soon she slipped under the black waves of sleep, undisturbed by anything more than the slight coolness of the air.

Payton hadn't been working long at Tomorrow's Cures, the firm that Logan belonged to.  She liked her job though; it was easy enough.  She got paid a full salary for making three or four flights a month, and other than that, had no responsibilities whatsoever.  But when she was on the job, she was careful to be very diligent and to make sure that she gave her full attention to the passengers.  That's why when she went into the cabin, she did her best to make the man and woman there as comfortable as she could.

   The woman was curled up in her chair, her knees practically drawn up to her chest.  _It must be too cold in here for her,_ Payton thought.  Being the kind and caring person she was, she reached into an overhead compartment and pulled out a lightweight blanket.  Carefully, she draped it over the woman passenger, making sure to cover her from chin to toe.  The woman didn't stir.  _That was easy enough._

   She was turning to leave when the man caught her attention.  He too appeared to be asleep, but he didn't look very comfortable.  The way his head was turned into the chair and the glasses that were still on his face . . .  _That must be uncomfortable.  I'll just take care of that for him._

   With any other person, the gesture might have been appreciated, or at least understood.  But Sands wasn't normal – had never been normal.  And Payton was rougher than she should have been with someone with a rather extreme injury.

   As she removed the sunglasses from Sands' face, he moved his head, and one earpiece scraped across is face at the exact same moment that Payton realized why he hadn't removed the glasses himself.  The empty holes where his eyes used to be were horrible to see even for people trained to be clinical and detached – for a naïve stewardess, it was like gazing into a nightmare.  Her small shriek of surprise and disgust mingled with Sands' low cry of pain.

Sands had been sleeping dreamlessly for once.  Which wasn't to say that his mind wasn't filled with things as he was unconscious – the constant drone of the engines set off an answering buzz in his head.  Even asleep he was somewhat aware of it.

   But suddenly vague memories from the Day of the Dead exploded in his head, all the more startling because of their previous absence.  There were no images – why should there be?  He hadn't seen anything after Guevera had set in with his drill, but the sensations and sounds were screaming for his attention.  He could remember being levered off the table he'd been strapped to, and could recall the feel of hands leading him to the door to the outside world that he could no longer see.  He could hear laughter and bets being taken against his prolonged survival.  _Fuckers.  I'll show them.  Then, almost as an afterthought, someone had shoved his glassed back on his face.  But they'd missed by a few inches, and the sliding of the earpiece over the skin of his temple had been almost indistinguishable from the other pain throbbing behind his face like a racquetball against a gym wall.  But it'd been separate enough to set off a new series of lightning-like strikes of pain through his body._

   Sands jerked himself out of the dream, only to find that it wasn't a dream.  The pain was real, and intense, and the hysterical screams were filling his ears.  For a moment he wondered if he was the one screaming, but then decided that it was someone else.  Why would someone else be screaming?

   **_What do you think, fuckmook.  Someone's been snooping._**

The anger filled him swiftly and uncontrollably.  He knew that was bad, but at the moment he really didn't care either.  Whoever had been meddling had to be taken care of.

Tess had been sleeping, deeply and without interruption.  So when her mind had registered a loud disturbance, she'd been reluctant to awaken.  She didn't _want to have to deal with anything at the moment.  She felt too tired and too drained to deal with yet _another_ emergency._

   **_If you don't deal with it, who will Teresa?  Whoever is supposed to be handling it doesn't sound as if they're doing a good job of it._**

   _I don't want to wake up.  There was a loud crashing sound and agitated yells.  The voice was quiet, but judging.  Distraught, she cried out to it, _Haven't___ I dealt with enough of this sort of thing in my life?!  Why are you forcing me to deal with more?!_

_   **I'm not forcing anything, Teresa.  You're the one who's taken on this responsibility.**_

****_At your urging!_

_   **Not my fault you listened, is it?**_

**_   ¡_**_Vete__ a la chingada!  Tess forced herself to wake up, levering heavy eye-lids open.  The stupor that slowed her mind and body from her impromptu nap didn't last for long once she saw what was going on in the cabin.  There was a woman standing in one corner, babbling incoherently, punctuating her nonsense with the occasional hysterical shriek.  Because of the annoyance this generated, Tess had a hard time understanding what was happening . . . . that is until she saw the pair of sunglasses hanging limply from the woman's hand._

   _No.  Oh, no.  Please, Mary, Jesus, Joseph, and all the saints–  Tess stood up, narrowly missing slamming her head into the overhead compartment.  _Sands._  Swiveling her head with something akin to desperation, Tess found her patient and traveling companion being held back by one of the male crewmembers.  He was fighting against the hold, but wasn't managing to do much.  In fact, he seemed to be launching more hits towards phantom enemies than towards the man holding him back._

   All this Tess had managed to notice in a split second, but it was the sight of his uncovered eyes that held her in place with shock.  She didn't know why, but the sight of his empty eye sockets was more repelling in the everyday world that it had been in her little house.  Time froze as she seemed to realize the full impact of what her family had taken from this man.

   But there was no time for freezing.  Sands managed to slam his elbow back into the diaphragm of the man who was holding him back, knocking the breath from him.  The man let Sands go, and with that action, time and reality seemed to slam back down on Tessa.  She scrambled across the seats as Sands followed the noise of the now screaming flight attendant, the sound of Sands' own voice ringing in her ears as he cursed in fluent English and Spanish and what she thought was Portuguese.

   Ignoring her irreverent voice which was asking where he'd learned Portuguese, Tess grabbed her patient's arm as he passed her, pulling him back.  He was half lost to the world, a condition she would have called hysterical in anyone else, but not in him.  Not realizing who she was, he took a swing at her, and she ducked out of the way.  "Sands!  It's me, Tessa.  Listen to me."  He didn't react apart from lashing out at her again.  This time she didn't move quickly enough, and his fist clipped the corner of her eye.  It hurt, but she'd had worse.  "Sands, please calm down.  It was an accident.  She didn't know – she wasn't trying to hurt you; I wouldn't let anyone hurt you.  Please, believe me."  He ignored her.

   **_What makes you think he can hear you over the demons that grip him?_  Tess ducked under another fist, coming up inside his grasp, her chest pressed against his.  A fist hit her kidney, and she gasped in pain.  ****_Are you going to let him kill you?_  She backed away and barely jumped aside in time to miss the kick that was meant to shatter her knee.  **_Hey, at least you took his gun._****

   _Not helping . . . .  Tess knew that the standard tactic to snap people back into reality was a nice, sharp slap to the face.  She couldn't do that.  If pain was driving him mad, then more pain was not going to help.  But how was she supposed to gain his attention enough for his mind to regain control of itself?_

   An idea occurred to her.  Perhaps not the best idea she'd ever had, but it was better than slapping a man she'd just promised to keep from harm.

   **_He never heard that promise._**

****_But I did.  It's in the air.  From my lips to the gods' ears.  It's too late to take it back.  Timing her moment, recalling the self-defense lessons she'd been forced to learn as a child and as a teen, Tess lunged for Sands the moment his pain distracted his attention from the person he thought he was fighting off.  She slammed into his body, grabbing his wrists and holding them with all the strength available to her.  She felt Sands hit the wall, and the moment they were no longer moving, she raised herself on her toes.  With the added leverage, she was able to keep his hands pinned near the wall, although it was a fight to keep them under control.  __Good thing he's still weak, else I'd be in serious pain right now._

   **_You can't last for much longer.  Do what you have to while you still can._**

   The voice was right.  Even with Sands weakened from pain and convalescence, he was quickly eating up what strength she had to contain him with.  If she didn't do something now, she might not be able to do anything.  Taking a deep breath, Tess covered Sands' mouth with her own, pressing his head back towards the wall when he tried to balk.  His struggles grew more intense, and Tess tightened her grip while starting to pray silently.  _Please, please come back.  It's just me, just me.  No one else.  No one is trying to hurt you.  You can stop fighting.  Stop fighting.  Please . . . ._

Sands wasn't sure what was going on.  His head was throbbing, his mind revolting, his body moving, and his eyes – his non-existent eyes – were screaming with pain and trespass.  He didn't know what was happening, and he knew that was dangerous, but the suspicion that _he was in danger was more compelling than the knowledge that he should stop.  Sharks died if they stopped swimming, and if he didn't fight, the same would happen to him._

   _Out.  Have to get out.  He didn't know where the exit was.  It hadn't been too far away.  He'd caught a glimpse of it as he'd confirmed that he was within the hold of the cartel.  He just needed to find it.  He was CIA; he could do this._

   A hand grabbed his arm, and he fought against it in the same way he'd fought against the man holding him back.  _Not quite as defenseless as they all thought.  He heard a gasp of pain, but the person trying to restrain him didn't let go.  If anything, they grew more determined.  He heard someone talking, but he was having a hard time understanding.  The pain in his head warped everything.  Maybe that was a good thing.  He didn't think he'd be able to handle all the facts at the moment._

   Why were they so persistent?  Hadn't they done already done their worst?  Why did they keep holding him back.  A scream fought his control and clamped lips as another wave of pain washed over him.  His opponent took their chance, driving him back against the wall and pinning his wrists.  Whoever it was he was fighting against wasn't very strong; he was still able to move his arms, albeit not very far.  Then the grip tightened and his mobility lessened yet again, and then there was a pair of determined lips against his mouth.

   **_Ajedrez._**

****_No.  I killed her.  That he was sure of.  He wasn't sure how he could be so certain, but he was.  Besides, she had a bit more skill when it came to kissing than this person did.  He tried to move his head, but the mouth on his only became more insistent._

   He couldn't breathe.  The body pressing his to the wall was keeping his lungs from expanding.  He tried to breathe through his mouth, but the one on his didn't permit air to enter his lungs that way.  He tried to be content with what air he could suck in through his nose, but it wasn't enough to fuel both the extreme pain and his fight.  He could feel his struggles growing weaker, could feel the mind-altering pain subside and become a throbbing cadence throughout his body.  As his muscles relaxed against his will, he could feel the person against him lowering their guard.

   **_Last chance._  The mouth against his was relenting its pressure.  The moment he felt he could do something, he struck out with his knee, catching whoever was holding him in the gut.  He heard them collapse, but he wasn't far behind him.  Unable to stay on his feet, he fell to his knees.**

   "Damnit Sands, that was unnecessary."  A woman's voice reached his voice.  It was breathless, as if the owner was finding it troublesome to breathe.

   He knew that voice.  The woman, the crazy one.  Tessa.  He could remember where he was, what had happened, and where he was going.  "What the hell was that?"

   Tess laughed, still trying to convince her lungs that they really did want to breathe.  "Hell if I know."  She pulled herself to her knees, seeing how her patient was swaying on his knees.  The ashen tone of his skin concerned her, but not as much as the groan that fought its way out of his chest.  "Stay with me, Sands.  I don't think either of us has the strength to go through that again."  He flipped her off, and the sight of his raised finger encouraged her in a perverse fashion.  "Thatta kid."  She reached out and laid a hesitant hand on his shoulder.  He tried to shrug it off, but didn't have the strength to dislodge it.  "No, don't fight.  A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down."

   "That was some low grade sugar."  Sands could feel his grip on reality sliding towards blackness.  _That's interesting.  He was about to pass out, and for the life of him, he really couldn't give a damn._

   Tess was about to make a biting comeback, or at least rattle off another confusing quote, but what Sands did next surprised her too much.  One moment he was swaying on his knees, and the next he was falling.  She just barely managed to catch him before he hit the ground.

   For a moment she simply held him in her arms, aware that he was breathing and his heart was beating and he wasn't leaking blood.  It was a novel experience for her, one she was unsure of how to deal with.  She wasn't used to holding people anymore than she was used to being held.  No one had ever cared about her enough to hold her, and she'd never cared enough for someone to hold them.

   **_What's in your head, Teresa?_**

She jumped like a little kid who'd been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.  _Nothing.  I didn't want him to hurt himself more by hitting the floor._

_   **He's been out of that danger for some time now.**_

   "Looks like you've had a bit of excitement."  Tess looked up into Tina's understanding eyes, relieved to be able to focus on something other than the insinuations of her voice, but scared.  She didn't want to be feeling anything that needed understanding.

   If her voice had a face, it would be grinning evilly. 

Aftermath.  Tess _hated dealing with aftermath.  While she was managing to survive in the moment, things were fine.  The voice usually left her alone then.  But aftermath was nothing more than a theme park for her voice.  It rioted through what had happened and what needed to happen with all the enthusiasm of a paraplegic who found he could suddenly walk._

   Tina was extremely helpful with the aftermath up to a point.  She managed to convince Mike – the man who'd been doing his best to detain Sands – to come back and help get the unconscious man into his seat, and she also kept the kids busy while Tess saw to her patient.

   Of course, getting him back into his seat had been the biggest struggle.  Not that he was awake to give her any trouble, which was a blessing in itself.  As long as he stayed unconscious, she was able to tend to him and give him a shot of codeine.  She would have preferred to use something stronger, but she knew he didn't want anything in his system to begin with, so she compromised and hoped that she wouldn't end up reaping trouble for it later.

   When Tess finally sat down again, struggling to control both her actively rebelling mind and her growing tempter, Tina was there to provide distraction.

   "Ms. Gonzales?  Is there anything else I can do for you?  Can I get you some Ibuprophen or an ice pack?"  The older woman thought that the spot where Sands had caught Tess with his fist might bruise.

   "Who was it?"  Tess was sitting with her head in her hands.  She could feel her temper and confusion battling for dominance over her mind.  She couldn't deal with the questions her meddlesome voice was raising at the moment, so she gave in to her temper.  "The woman who took off his glasses.  Where is she?  I want to talk to her."

   There must have been something about her voice that gave Tina pause, because she didn't answer right away.  And when she did finally answer, her voice was cautious.  "Payton's in the back.  I'm afraid that she got quite a scare."

   The explanation infuriated Tess.  She rose to her feet and started pacing, her hands clenched together behind her back to keep them from trembling with anger and exhaustion.  "Good.  She deserved to be scared.  She deserved to be frightened out of her wits."  _She hurt someone under my care.  He's **mine**.  No one should hurt him.  Continuing her pacing, Tess continued in an agitated voice, "She intruded on a man's privacy – causing him extreme physical and emotional pain.  This in turn threw the entire cabin into an uproar, and she was damn lucky things didn't get anymore serious."  __They would have if I hadn't taken away his gun.  "One of your crewmen was injured, I'm not feeling all that great, and if the children had been in here they would have been terrified.  Who knows what other repercussions are going to arise from this?  I certainly don't, but I know that _I'm_ the one who's going to have to deal with them, not that overly-attentive woman barely out of childhood.  That damn busybody deserves a hell of a lot more than a simple scare."  _

   Tessa's voice, noticing her agitation, was more than happy to switch its attention from the feelings the episode with Sands had raised to her anger with the young flight attendant.  Tess felt the surge of uncontrollable rage as it fed the anger, panic, and guilt gripping her.  It got into her head and it was all she could do to keep herself from screaming at it or at Tina, who was only trying to help her.  _Oh god, oh **god.**  No.  Please no._  With the speed of long practice, Tess turned her anger into an extra wall to keep her other side from overwhelming her.

   "Ms. Gonzales?"

   "Teresa," she gasped.  She needed all the reminders she could get of who she really was by this point.  If she wasn't extremely careful, she was going to fall to pieces right here and now, and she highly doubted that the crew was trained to deal with someone having a schizophrenic episode.  "Please, call me Teresa."  Tess sat back down, taking the seat next to Sands.  She reached over to take his pulse, more of a motion to cover her growing disturbance than to ensure herself that he was alright.  "Just keep her away from us.  I know it was an accident, but keep her _away.  I don't want to set eyes on her again."  _If I do, I don't know if I can be held responsible for what I'll do to her.__

_   **You're so tame, Teresa.  You should be asking for her head, demanding her job.  Your father never would have stood for this.  Why are you?  Find the woman.  You've got Sands' gun.  You know how to use it.  Punish her for hurting someone under your care.  Do it.  Before she does it again.  Stop her before she can hurt someone else you care for.**_

****"No!  Just be quiet!"

   **_You're talking out loud, Teresa._**

   "Teresa?"  Tess froze, sure that the balance had finally tipped to the voice's favor, before realizing that Tina was the one addressing her.  "Are you alright?"

   It was the concern in the woman's voice that made Tess look at her.  She saw in the other woman's eyes that she _knew; that she knew about her 'mental instability'.  __Instability.  Ha.  It's more like trying to balance on a rolling ship while only having the use of one leg.  _Logan___ must have told her.  "I . . . I'm sorry.  It's been a long day.  I'll take something in a moment."  It was suddenly hard to keep her eyes open.  She knew her control was crumbling rapidly and that she'd demanded too much from it as of late.  _I need sleep.__

   "Do you want me to keep the kids occupied until we land?  I can do it.  There's lots to see and do on even a plane this size.  And the baby wouldn't be a problem either.  Until my daughter decides to settle down I don't have anyone else to spoil."

   Tess nodded, the other woman's concern touching her deeply.

   **_Don't read into it too far.  It's her job to be nice and helpful._**

   Ignoring the cynical tone to that comment, and the ring of truth behind it, Tess nodded.  "If you wouldn't mind, that would be wonderful."

   "It's not a problem at all, and you'll sleep better if you know everyone is looked after."

   Tess wasn't about to go back to sleep after what had happened the last time she'd tried, but she nodded.  "Thank you."  She watched at Tina scooped Lena into her arms and left the cabin, closing the door behind her. 

   Once she was sure she was alone, Tessa got up from her seat and opened her trunk, which was still out after giving Sands a dose of painkillers.  Quickly, she located her booster shot and gave it to herself.  Settling back down, this time across from Sands, she waited for it to take hold.

   Time passed in silence for five or ten minutes before her voice became aware of what she'd done.  In retaliation it broke in on her emptying mind, raising all the concerns and tangled feelings that it'd been saving for later.  **_You pretend to be a detached medical 'practioner', but you're not.  You're a phony.  It's no wonder your father called you home after you graduated.  You could handle the classes and the internship, but working as a resident or in private practice would have killed you by now.  You're getting close to this man.  Interested.  Fascinated.  Enthralled.  You pretend you don't know what's happening, but you do.  You _like_ him.  You must be a masochist.  But that's okay, because I think he's a sadist.  So therefore, you're the perfect couple, really._**

_  That's ridiculous.  I **don't** like him.  You're right, perhaps I'm coming to care for him – and that wasn't in the plan – but I don't like him.  I know exactly what would come of liking him – nothing.  I've had relationships like that with people already, thank you.  _Sands had his glasses back on – Tess had been sure to replace them before even doing so much as giving him something for the pain – and his face was pale.  Almost as pale as it'd been the day she'd brought him home with her.

_   **You weren't exactly feeling repulsed when you kissed him back there.**_

****_I wasn't turned on either.  She couldn't see any blood, but that was to be expected by now.  His wounds should have healed enough that they wouldn't break open at a moment's notice.  However, he had managed to rough himself up.  She'd better check on that._

**_   Admit it – you've wanted to do that for awhile now, and there was a part of you who was sorry to stop kissing him._**  Tess swore that the voice took a perverse pleasure in reminding of her exactly how Sands' lips had felt underneath hers.  She didn't want to remember.  Remembering implied that she cared enough about it to give it a spot in her memory.

****Irritably, Tess replied.  _Yeah, you.  **You were the one that was sorry.  **I** wasn't thrilled about doing it in the first place.  It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience.**_

_   **Oh, so it's worked its way up to being an 'experience' now, has it?**_  Tess didn't answer.  She could tell that the voice was getting weaker.  In a few more minutes she wouldn't have to put up with its questioning any longer.  **_Tell me, what would you have done if he'd responded?  What would you have done if he'd tried to take things farther?_**

Her eyes darted to his lips despite herself.  _I would have stopped him.  It wouldn't have been hard in his condition.  _

_   **And if he remembers and tries to . . . oh, I dunno, resume that little scene?  Then what will you do?  Will you fight . . . or will you lay down and spread your legs for him?**_

****_He's not going to try anything.  _

_   **And if he does?  You still haven't answered my question Teresa.**_

****"Fuck off."  There was no reply – the medication had finally taken hold.  Tess sighed in relief, and then sat up as straight in her chair as she could.  She wasn't going to risk sleep again until she had them all safely tucked away in LA.

The plane landed at LAX a little more than three hours later.  This time they would be disembarking at a terminal, and Logan was supposed to be waiting for them.  Tessa found that Tina would be going with them as far as the gate, though she volunteered to go as far as the car with them.  The younger woman accepted this offer with some gratitude, thinking that she was going to have enough on her hands with helping Sands without angering him without watching after the kids as well.  It was hard to lend a helping hand while also holding a baby in one arm and keeping a hand on child who was prone to wander.  And her head hurt, but that was a minor consideration.

   "'Giovanni', we're here.  It's time to wake up."  With all the care she'd put into waking a slumbering tiger, Tess reached out a hand and laid it on Sands' shoulder.  "We need to get moving.  I want to take another look at your stitches and I can't do that here.  I'd shock people if I started undressing you in public."  The voice stirred at the mention of undressing someone, but it settled when it realized it'd been a joke.  However, Sands started to stir and didn't stop.

   "Fuck, my head hurts."  Why couldn't he remember why it hurt?

   "I'm not surprised.  Neither of us was being all that gentle there for a moment."

   "Ah, niña, you should have waited until I was fully conscious before letting me lay you."

   If he was making comments like that, he was fine.  She ignored the blush that came to her face at his comments and their similarity to the conversation she'd been having earlier.  "Hope springs eternal in the human chest; man never is, but always to be blest.  We both know that's _not what happened, although I don't doubt that thoughts like that have a prominent place in your dreams.  Can you stand?"_

   He hated to admit it, but he thought he might have a bit of trouble with that.  Sands took his time as he levered himself out of the seat.  He was _tired.  And sore.  But at least he was standing on his own two feet and not leaning on the woman in front of him.  At least he assumed she was in front of him.  It was hard to tell at the moment; it was hard to _focus_ at the moment.  But at least he was standing.  "Let's blow this joint."  The idea of blowing something up had a certain amount of attraction at the moment.  Not that he'd be able to see it._

   He followed the sound of childish laughter and Tessa's footsteps as the group left the plane.  The room was spinning around him, or to be more precise, he was suffering from an extreme case of vertigo – he couldn't see the room.  He was fine as long as the floor was solid underneath him, but the moment they stepped into the terminal, his steps faltered.

   Before Sands could make a fool of himself, Tessa was there, slipping an arm around his waist and raising his own arm to lay around her shoulders.  She continued talking with another woman, not saying a thing to him.  That suited Sands just fine – if she'd made some sort of comforting remark he would have hurt her.  This whole being dependent on another person was getting old real quick.  Not to mention that Tess didn't show any signs of getting tired of supporting him.

   "Johnny Depp."

   "What?"  Was it just him, or had that come out of nowhere?

   "You asked who I used for your passport photo.  It was a photo of Johnny Depp.  Of course, we doctored it a little.  No one is as gorgeous as Johnny."  Was she teasing him?

   The moment that they were back on solid ground, Tess removed her arm from around his body, although she didn't move far away from him.  She was careful to stay close by his side and to keep her voice raised above the sudden bombardment of sound that enclosed them.  Sands was starting to dislike airports.

   On this side of the border, the security check was more cursory than thorough.  Maybe it was the fact that the was a genuine American citizen with them, or perhaps it was that he looked like he was ready to fall flat on his face at the slightest provocation – he really didn't care at this point.  Whatever had happened earlier – and it really disturbed him that he couldn't remember – had taken a lot of his strength.  _I'm going to have to get some answers out of Tess later._  He had the feeling that he'd lost control for a moment, and that was never good.

   They passed through the security checkpoint, and suddenly Sands heard a squeal.  _If it's an attack, I hope they just shoot me._  The sound of footsteps running away from him let him know that he wasn't in imminent danger.  Tess would never leave someone under her care to fend for themselves as she ran for safety.  She must have seen someone she recognized.  A moment later a man's voice confirmed his suspicions.  "T!"

   A smallish hand slipped into his.  "Hóla, señor."

   "Hey kid."  Sands was busy concentrating on what he could hear of Tessa's reunion.  There was laughter and the sound of hands slapping against backs.  "Who's the guy la señorita is with?"

   "I don't know, señor.  He's tall and blonde.  I think –"  

   Whatever else Marcos had been about to say was cut off by a loud round of laughter and a man's voice saying, "I'm a relatively respectable citizen."  

   Tess joined him for the rest of the statement before the man could finish.  "Multiple felon perhaps, but certainly not dangerous."  They both laughed.

   _Oh god, not another one.  If this was his doctor, maybe he should give up now._

****************************************************************

**Quotes: **umm . . . quotes.  Can always use more quotes.  Anyway, this chapter I quoted: **Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas, ****T.S. Elliot, ****Marry Poppins, ****Milton, and another dose of **Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas**.  So there.  ^_^**

**Author's Thanks:** *wails dramatically*  Only seven reviews!  Oh, I've bored people to death!  *crying*

Anyway, thanks to: **Merrie (who's always demanding off-topic smut.  *sighs*  That's alright.  I enjoy writing it and I pester you with my philosophical SJ questions, so I suppose we're square.), ****Ashley (my wonderful beta who catches more than I ever do.  I love seeing the amount of blue in my beta copies.  Let's me know you're working hard.  That's why I pay you the big bucks.  *hands over a peanut*), ****Pixy (I tried to get this out, but no luck.  Sorry.), ****Adrejon (the gun part was fun, wasn't it?),** TaraRose** (this enough tension for you? ^_^),and **Blank** (Finally got to the ID part this chapter.  I really did mean to get in last time, but the timing never seemed quite right.  *grins apologetically*  forgiven?).**

New reviewers for this chapter: **gee (by all means, write down the quotes you like ^_^) and **AsMiLinNgFoOl** (don't have to wait any longer ^_^)**

**Ode to the missing reviewers: **oh, **Lucky11, vera, **and** gypsylemon. You were there at the first, but now you're gone!  Woe to me, I crave the praise of those who took pity on a new fanfic writer and encouraged her!  **Tari****** Troi, IloveSands, and ****fiondra**!**  I heard from you all at one point, but you've disappeared!  How I miss you all!  ****Kaliko**!** And you!  You were also an encouragement.  You made me laugh with your lines and lines of 'more!'  ****The Flaming Chia Pet!  You encouraged me with your righteous indignation.  And now you're not here.  *cries*  And ****kinkyfrodo****!  Have you abandoned this realm for that of hobbits and elves and magic rings?!  Come back!  **Logical Philosophy!**  You told me stories, and now I am story-less.  Woe is me!  **Kim!**  You of the moose-mail!  Have thou migrated?  **Aurelius!**  The one who reviewed because there were no more chapters.  More chapters there are!  **Trish!  **Another humongous encouragement.  Please, let me know what you think of this chapter!  ****Lunatic, **LiquidDiamond**, **marie**, **Yuliya**, **lisa**, ****bboarding323, and ****kiare: I remember you all!  I miss you all!  Please, let me know that I have not board you to death.  *strikes a dramatic pose and tries to think of a quote* . . . . *still thinking* . . . . . *still thinking* . . . . I guess Tess took them all, but I do miss you all.  Please, drop me a line!  *cries more*  I think you get the point.  Now that I've made a fool of myself, I will go.  **_Just remember that I miss and remember each and very one of you.  I love you all . . . ._**  *gets dragged off stage, ranting and raving.  Oh well***


	21. Back in the US

**Author's note:  gee, it seems like I just posted.  *shrugs*  Well, no matter.  Here's the next chapter.  A bit more of a background for Tess and an intro for ****Logan****.  Don't worry though, the next chapter should focus mainly on Sands.  ^_^  That's going to be fun.**

**Author's thanks at the end.**

**********************************************************************

Logan was quick to hustle Tessa's little group out of the airport and into a waiting taxi.  She almost laughed at the description.  This wasn't a taxi, it was a bright yellow minivan – but she didn't dispute it.  The sooner Sands sat down, the better.  He was looking unsteady on his feet again and the last thing she wanted was for him to collapse.  He didn't like to appear weak in front of her – she didn't know what he'd do if his infirmities got the best of him in front of strangers.  Strangers who he hadn't had time to judge or adjust to yet.  Tess had dealt with one breakdown that day – she didn't need and couldn't handle another.

   "Tía, I'm hungry."

   "We'll get food soon, Alma, I promise."  Tess dug an orange out of her bag.  "Go on, get in the van."  Alma did, and soon after squabbles broke out in the back seat.  "Share with your brothers if they're hungry."  The disagreement dissolved as Tina climbed into the back of the van to provide adult order to the back seats.

   Tess sighed with relief – the woman was a godsend, she was sure.  Now, if only Tina were able to help with Sands, Tess might consider taking a short break.  But that was an impossible 'if'.  "Sands?"  Speaking of impossible, where had that man gotten to?  "Sands?"  

   Unaware of Logan's look of surprise, Tess went in search of her patient.  There he was, leaning against the back of the van, cigarette in hand.  "Sands, it's time for us to go.  I still want to make sure that you didn't do any damage to yourself earlier."

   "Ah, earlier.  There's something we're going to have a talk about, niña."  Sands flicked some ash from his cigarette.  "I don't like being left in the dark," he managed to contain a wry and self-deprecating laugh.  "Especially about my own actions."  He took another drag, trying to hold off another trip.  The kids were getting rambunctious from being cooped up all day, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be in the same _room_ with them, much less the same vehicle. 

   He heard footsteps approach him, and the van sway as someone else leaned against it.  Tessa's voice was low, as if she didn't want her conversation to be overheard by anyone else.  "I know how you feel, but I also know that you're too weak to keep on your feet at the moment.  Admit it – that's why you're leaning against the van.  I'll answer all your questions as best I can, but first I'd like to see us someplace safe . . . out of the open.  I understand that you don't want to get in the van –"

   He appreciated her discretion, but the feeling that he had forgotten something important overwhelmed that.  "You understand too damn much."  Sands dropped the cigarette.  He had to keep this female in her place – at an arm's distance.  "You'd better back off before you find yourself 'understanding' a hell of a lot more than you bargained for.  Savvy?"

   "Loud and clear, Will Robinson."  He didn't believe her for a moment.  Sands had come to understand that Tess was one of those people who'd do anything within their power for those under their protection.  "Can we go now?  The longer we wait, the louder the kids are going to get.  I don't know about you," the tone of her voice made it clear she knew exactly what he was feeling, "but my head can't take too many more decibels."  Her fingertips brushed the sleeve of his jacket.  "Shall we?"

   He wanted to jerk away from her, but he had the feeling that would have sent him to his knees.  He'd ask her not to touch him, but that would give away too much of what he was thinking and feeling.  Cursing her in his head all the while, Sands followed Tess back the doors of the van and allowed her to give him a hand in entering the vehicle.

   **_What are you whining about?  At least with her help you didn't bang your head on the ceiling.___**

_   Traitor,_ Sands thought as he felt Tessa slide in after him.

_   **Realist.**_  There was an arm brushing against his stomach.  **_That's nice, isn't it?_**

   "What are you doing, señorita?"

   Tess blushed – she'd been trying so hard not to touch him.  Still, she kept her voice quiet as she answered.  Something about having all these other people around made her want to try to protect Sands, but she didn't know from what or why.  All she knew was that . . . was that she wanted him to keep his dignity.  Yes, that sounded good.  "I know this was merely an oversight on your part, but I'd appreciate it if you'd wear your seatbelt.  It sets a good example for the children."  She settled the buckle in his hand and he heard the snap of her own seatbelt being fastened.  With an air of extreme irritation, Sands did the same.

One thing that Tess had learned long ago was there was no arguing with Logan once he'd made up his mind.  Well, of course you _could argue – it'd just do you no good whatsoever.  So when Logan had informed Tess during the ride from the airport that she and her little company would be staying in a condo owned by his firm for as long as they stayed in LA for "consulting and possible treatment," she hadn't argued.  She didn't entirely like the idea of living off charity for as long as they might be in California, but she was too tired to argue and too tired to arrange for a hotel.  Dinner had been settled in the same way – she'd simply been too tired to argue over his paying for dinner.  It was nothing but pizza, but she still felt somewhat guilty over letting him foot the bill._

   "I'll pay you back for that."

   "T, how many times did you spring for pizza while we were at school?  I think that I owe you more than a dinner."  Tess smiled and shook her head.  They were cleaning up from dinner, the kids thoroughly engrossed in the newly discovered Disney channel (despite the fact that Marcos was really the only one who fully understood what was being said), and Sands had gone outside to smoke.  

   Outside.  Tess looked out the window that showed the back porch.  Sands was only visible in the form of a black silhouette against the lights of the LA skyline.  Her thoughts returned the man who's been at their center for over a week now.  "If you can do what you say you can, I'll be the one in your debt."  Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed the hour – nine o'clock.  "Excuse me for a moment.  It's time the kids were headed towards bed." 

   Logan watched her go, still amazed at the task she'd taken on herself.  Taking in four young children, with all the other concerns she had in her life.  Tessa was certainly something, and he was glad to have her back.  He'd have to watch her, though, to make sure she didn't overdo anything.  As her physician and her friend, of course.  "I talked to Inge the other day," he called to the upstairs bathroom where Tess was supervising teeth-brushing.  

   "How is she?  I haven't heard from her lately."  _Lately.  I'm not sure I've heard from her more than five times since graduation._

   "Didn't you hear?"

   _No.  I haven't talked to her lately.  I just said that.  "Hear what?"  Tess appeared at the railing that ran along the upstairs hallway._

   "She got a job with some government agency about three years back.  She's been so busy ever since that she's barely had time to e-mail me.  She said that she'd been trying to e-mail you, but you never replied.  It sent her into a huff, the way she was being ignored by her old roommate, but I explained that you were on the go in Mexico and didn't always have Internet access."  Tess rolled her eyes – they both knew that she had a wireless connection.  She simply hated checking her e-mail.  Every time she went online she got distracted from whatever it was that she was trying to do.  "She was interested to hear that I'd actually found someone crazy enough to listen to my ideas."

   "Is that right?"  Tess looked over her shoulder.  "Just a moment.  Minor emergency."  A herd of water-splashed children appeared from the bathroom and disappeared into one of the bedrooms.

   Fifteen minutes later Tess emerged, a baby in one arm.  She trotted down the stairs and came into the kitchen to fix a bottle.  "What is it you were saying?"

   "Inge – she was amazed."

   "That's right.  What else did she say?"

   "That she had some vacation time coming up in two months or so, and she thought she might come out for a visit.  Especially if I manage to 'pull a rabbit out of my hat.'  Her words, not mine."

   "Where's she living now?"

   "D.C."

   "Oh.  When you said government I assumed she'd be over in Atlanta or something, working for the CDC.  Doesn't she specialize in the development and evolution of diseases?  I could have sworn that's what she wrote her thesis on."

   "Yeah.  I was surprised too."  The microwave dinged and Logan got up from the table to fetch the bottle for Tess.  "But she seems to be enjoying her work."

   "Well, that's Inge for you – says one thing then does the exact opposite."  

   Logan shrugged.  "I'm thirty different people sometimes.  One day you wake up and you're somebody else, nowhere near who you were before you went to sleep."

   Tess shook her head, amazed at how quickly the old routine was picked up between them.  Almost as if she'd never left.  It was a good feeling.  "I've never heard that one before.  Who said it?"

   "Umm . . . gimme a moment.  Can't for the life of me remember his name.  That one guy who was in that pirate movie this summer."

   Tess blinked at the man, unable figure out what he was saying, then it clicked.  "Johnny Depp?"  

   Logan nodded.  "Yeah, that's the one."

   "Well, that's a coincidence."  Logan looked at her quizzically, but she just shook her head.  She didn't want to get into the business of fake ID's and cartels and lying to airport security.  She looked down and found that Lena had drifted off.  Getting up from the table, she went to put her change down and then came back.

   "God, I've missed you."  Now that her arms were free, Tess gave her friend a hug, remembering just how nice it was to be able to let down her guard of normalcy around someone.  Logan knew she was nuts, so she didn't have to hide the fact around him.  Besides, he had a streak of insanity running through his own personality, so for the most part, he had no right to judge her at all.

   "I hear you had a rough flight."  He let her go to look into her eyes seriously.  "That or you've taken up kickboxing again."  Logan brushed her bruised eye.  "Are you alright?"

   Tess looked up at Logan quizzically.  How'd he known about what had happened on the flight?  "I'm fine.  A little sore, and I've got a nice buzz going, but other than that I'm fine.  How'd you know what happened?"

   He shrugged.  "I got a call.  I'm afraid that I asked Tina to look out for you.  I know she's done her share of looking out for me.  I hope you don't mind."

   "No, not at all.  That woman is worth her weight in antibacterial salve."  She put on an injured look when Logan laughed at her comparison.  "Well, it's true.  She totally took on looking after the kids so I could focus on Sands . . . ."  _Where is Sands?  "Speaking of my recalcitrant patient, where is he?"_

   "He came in while you were with the kids and went into one of the downstairs bedrooms."

   Tess nodded and got up.  "I'm sorry to keep interrupting our conversation, but I really do need to go check on him.  If I had a rough flight, then he just had the trip from hell.  I'll be right back."

   It wasn't hard to tell which room Sands had gone into.  There were only two bedrooms on the ground floor, and only one had the door open and a light on.  Sands had no need for light but much need for privacy, so she assumed he was in the one with the door shut.  She knocked quietly, waiting for a reply.  When none came, she knocked a bit louder.  Still nothing.  Tess hesitated for a moment, unsure whether she should go in or not.  Sands had suffered constant intrusions on his solitude and seclusion in the past eight or nine days – once they'd reached the condo, he'd locked himself outside.  Tess had made sure that he'd eaten, but other than that she'd left him alone.

_   But what if he did hurt himself earlier?_

_   **You just want to see him.**_

_   I want to make sure he's alright._  The voice didn't answer and Tess picked up her courage and opened the door to the bedroom.

   Light filtered in from one open window, the sound of cars rumbling faintly under the sound of moving grass.  Tess looked around in the dark, trying to locate her patient, and found him facedown on the bed.  He'd stripped off his shirt and changed into a pair of beat-up jeans.  His back glowed sliver in the light of the setting moon.  Tessa watched as his body slowly rose and fell with the rhythm of the deeply asleep.   _Well, perhaps an examination can wait until tomorrow.  He was wearing his glasses, but Tess was unwilling to make the same mistake the stewardess had made – she'd let him keep them on._

   Still, despite her decision to let her patient sleep, Tessa was reluctant to leave the room.  There was something about people when they were asleep that made them seem safer.  Let threatening.  More inviting.  Less guarded.  _I wonder who he is beneath all the layers of indifference, hostility, and tacky t-shirts.  There must be something worthwhile, or Marcos wouldn't like him.  _She shook her head.  _I wonder why I care.  Her voice and Sands stirred at the same time.  She froze, wanting to avoid detection and her voice's sharp tongue.  It was sure to bring this up later, and who knew was Sands would do if he found her lurking.  He didn't mind lurking himself, but she got the feeling he hated to have anyone spy on him._

   Moving slowly, Tess left the room, closing the door behind her.

   When he was sure that he was alone, Sands sat up.  _Finally.  Maybe now he'd get some answers._

"So, how much can you tell me of what you've been up to lately, Trouble?"

   Tess rolled her eyes at the old nickname.  "Gee, if you want a complete accounting, maybe we should move into the living room – this may take awhile."  Tess grabbed her can of Lipton's Brisk Ice Tea, and went and seated herself in an overstuffed armchair.  Logan followed and sat across from her on the sofa, lounging across the cushions.  Tessa noticed how he'd grown into his looks – he'd always been a good-looking guy, but now he seemed more comfortable inside his own skin.  "How's Jessica?"

   "T–"

   "I don't want to talk about it, Logan.  I've already told you what I can.  There's parts of my life that I just can't share, though, for good reasons.  I'm here – that's enough for me.  Let it be enough for you."

   "Doesn't that ever get tiring, Teresa?  Don't you ever wish that you could actually _talk_ to someone about all the things you hold back?  That's what friends are there to listen to."_  What I'm here to listen to._

   "Logan –"

   "How do you know you're not fearing something that doesn't even exist?" he demanded.

   Tess stared at him for a moment before her eyes lost focus, as if she were seeing something other than the room she was in.  "We make the dragons as we make the gods, because we need them, because somewhere deep in out hearts, we recognize that a world without them is not worth living in.  No, I would not want to live in a world without dragons, as I would not want to live in a world without magic, for that is a world without mystery, and that is a world without faith."

   "Very impressive.  What is that supposed to mean at the moment?"

   Logan watched as her eyes focused on him once again.  "Don't you ever give up?  Can't you tell when things are complicated"

   "No.  It's one of my many charms.  And things are only as complicated as you let them be.  Answer the question please."

   Tess thought for a moment.  "What that means for me . . . at the moment at least . . . is that . . . ."  She wasn't good at putting her thoughts into words.  The two just didn't mesh well.  That's why she used other people's words.  "It means . . . that . . . for so long I've held what was bad in my world just as close as I held the few things that were good.  And despite the fact that . . . that I was often – and am still – surrounded by dragons, I don't know what my life would be like without them, because they've motivated me for so long.  But now my dragons are dead and I have the care of a wounded knight and four children, but I don't know were I'm supposed to find my motivation now.  My life is changing, and seemingly for the better, and I don't know how to handle that."  She sighed and rubbed her eyes.  "I'm so used to running headlong through the dark, that now that there's light around me again, I don't know what to do with it.  'The darkness that surrounds us cannot hurt us.  It is the darkness of your own heart you should fear.'  Maybe that's it.  Maybe now that I have a moment to stand still, I see all that can go wrong inside myself, and I doubt the wisdom of the choices I've made."

   "Anything I've ever done that ultimately was worthwhile initially scared me to death."

   "I don't think stealing the pants of every member of the football team applies at this instance."

   "Hey, I'm not the one who said that."

   "Who did then?"

   "I don't know, but it was on that quote-a-day calendar you gave me for graduation."

   Tess laughed, able to let go of her musings for the time being.  "You still have that thing?"

   "Yep.  It has an honored place on my desk and all my colleagues and patients wonder why I'm still using a calendar from 1996."

   "What do you tell them?"

   "I tell them that the love of my life, the woman who broke my heart by leaving, gave it to me on our anniversary."

   "Do you now?"

   "Would I lie to you, T?"

   "Yes.  But I'll choose to ignore that fact.  How's Jessica?  I seem to remember asking you that awhile back now."

   "Oh, she's doing alright . . . for a girl."

   "She'd kick your but back to your undergrad days if she heard you say that."

   "Nah, she'd just tell Mom and then let her handle it."

   "The women of your family are very outspoken, aren't they?"

   "Why are you asking me?  You've met them.  Although I will admit that Jess isn't nearly as bad as Mom yet.  It's only a matter of time before my twin gives into it though."

   "Into what?"

   "Constant PMS."  Tess broke out laughing.  The sound reached Sands where he was sitting in the darkened kitchen.  He'd never heard that amount of freedom in his companion's voice before and he realized how guarded she was around him.  "I didn't say that, Dad did."  Again the laughter.

   **_Smart girl to be on the look-out around you.  She must know a predator when she sees one.___**

_   Yes . . . smart girl._  That threw a whole new monkey wrench into things.  There was no telling how much she assumed or knew.  He'd have to get her to answer some questions.  Soon.  Sands rubbed the back of his neck and then paid attention as the two friends started talking again.

   "So, your flight . . . ."

   "Oh my god.  I don't even know what to tell you about our flight."  Sands heard the weariness return to Tessa's voice.  "Things started going wrong from the beginning.  I don't even know what I can tell you without telling everything, and I don't want to tell another's story, so by all rights Sands' should be here to tell what he feels comfortable with before I say what I think is safe to be said –"

   "Relax.  I'm not here to interrogate you.  Why don't we just start with Sands.  Does he have a first name?"

   "Most likely.  I don't know what it is, though."  Tess took a drink of her iced tea.  "The thing you have to realize about Sands is he plays things very close to the vest.  I don't know if he's always been that way, or if it's a recent development due to the nature of how he gained his injuries.  My gut tells me hat this is somewhat recent, or at least an exaggeration of a previous personality trait."

   "How did he get his injuries?"

   "As far as I can tell, his eyes were . . . removed by rather primitive means."  She swallowed, trying to keep her voice above a whisper.  This was a gruesome topic that by all rights, should be explained by someone else.  "And umm . . . as I said on the phone, the procedure wasn't entirely finished before he was released."

   "Released from a hospital?"

   "No."

   "From where then?  There's relatively few places that can –"  She could tell that Logan was having a hard time digesting everything.  He was used to the civility of the States – he'd never dealt with a cartel in his life.  The closet thing the US had to compare was the mob, and there were relatively few mobs in LA.

   "I have a good idea of the conditions it was done in, and a better idea of who did it."  Tess gave a weak smile.  "I think that our patient . . . _your patient now . . . I think he got on the wrong side of a cartel."_

   "As in a drug cartel?"

   "Yeah, as in a drug cartel."  There was a look of shock on her friend's face.  "I can assure you that it's not all that unusual as you get farther south of the border."

   "What have you gotten tangled up in, Teresa?"  Logan didn't like the depth of conviction in her voice.

   "Nothing.  It's what I've gotten free of that should concern you."

   "And what's that?"

   "A very different way of life.  But anyway, that's why I've brought Sands to you.  As for what happened on the plane . . . I think your stewardesses need to be briefed on how far is too far where hospitality is concerned."  
   "You're not making sense."

   "One of your flight attendants took his glasses off, giving them both a rude awakening.  I can only assume that she was too rough in her shock, and that she managed to hurt him somehow.  He lost track of where he was, and he tried . . . I think he was trying to escape, but not the plane."

   "And the black eye?"  Sands raised his eyebrows – he hadn't known that she was hurt.

   "A lesson in what can happen when one tries to stabilize an unstable mind.  Good thing it's not a common occurrence – otherwise I'd be black and blue all over all the time."  Tess shrugged.  "He thought I was someone else and he tried to make me let go of him.  I ducked or avoided most of the blows, but his fist did manage to catch the corner of my eye.  Like you said, I've had worse when I was taking that kickboxing course."  Leaning her head back onto the back of the chair, she said, "I'm fine."

   "That's not what Tina said."

   "Logan –"

   "She said that you were talking to yourself and that you had to give yourself a booster shot."  Sands' ears perked up at that.  This line of conversation could end up being ever so informative.  "Tina also said that you looked like you hadn't gotten sleep in days.  Now that I see you myself, I think she was being kind.  You're wearing yourself ragged, and you can't _do_ that, T.  You more than anyone should know the repercussions of sleep deprivation on your psyche."

   "I do.  I know every consequence, every possibility, every 'if' inside and out.  You make it sound as if I've been careless.  Well . . . maybe I have.  But it was either I get enough sleep, or my charges suffer for it.  I had to tend a man who by all rights should have bled to death, and I still can't figure out why he didn't.  I took in four children left as orphans due to a greed for power and territory.  I got shot – twice.  And I've been having flashbacks like you wouldn't believe.  But I'm still in control.  I've gotten everyone to safety while keeping their health intact, and now that I'm here, I can take things a bit easier.  I hid our tracks well – we'll be safe for a few weeks.  Long enough for you to help Sands."

   "He's important to you, isn't he Tessa?"  Logan's voice was quiet, but it still caused shock ripples to move through Tessa's body.

   "Of course he's important.  He's my patient.  All my patients are important."

   "There's more to it than that, T.  Remember, we did our internship together.  I've seen you with your patients before.  You were professional yet warm with them.  I've never yet seen you actually worry over someone in your care.  What is it about this man that makes you lose that cool head of yours?"

   _How do I answer that?  "He's the last one."_

   "The last one of what?"

   "The last patient.  He's the last that I will ever see under my care."

   "What do you mean?  You're still a doctor, T.  There will be other patients."

   "No, there won't.  You don't understand.  Remember how I graduated second in our class?"

   "Yeah.  Inge was first, you were second, Jess was third, and I was fourth.  It was a dark day that saw three women come in ahead of me, but –"

   Tess waved a hand, dismissing the familiar lament.  "Yes, I've heard this complaint before.  Remember how you all were looking over job offers and discussing benefits while I sat and read?"

   "What does this have to do with anything, T?

   "Remember what I said?  That I already had a job lined up?  You were all so amazed that I'd made up my mind so quickly.  What you didn't know was that I _had_ no other offers.  Just the one with my family.  I came in second in the class, but no one wanted to hire me.  I was too big a risk.  The level of stress that would be placed on me, they said, would be too much.  I'd never take it.  I'd be a danger to myself and my patients.  So I went back to Mexico, stayed with my family for a year, and then ran away.  I've taken in patients here and there, but it's time for me to quit.  I'm glad that I can turn Sands over to you."

   "Tessa –"

   "It's true, Logan.  We both know that.  Regular practice in a hospital somewhere would have broken me years ago."

   Her friend was silent for a moment before asking, "So what are you going to do now?"

   "I don't know.  Maybe find a teaching position at community college or something.  They're always on the lookout for good teachers, and seeing as I was second in my class from Harvard med, it shouldn't be too hard to find a job."  Tess stood up and stretched.  "Of course, anything that I do will have to wait until I know what will happen with Sands.  I won't leave him completely friendless.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I should head for bed."

   "I won't dream of keeping you from your beauty sleep, Trouble."  Logan stood up as well and walked towards the front door at Tessa's side.  "I was thinking that tomorrow Tina could take the kids off your hands again, and you could spend the day sleeping."

   "That's nice, but it's not really her job."

   "Well, actually, it kinda is.  Tina isn't a flight attendant, she's my head nurse and personal assistant.  She's completely amazing."

   "You're such a jerk, Logan.  Why didn't you tell me that before?"

   "You didn't need to know.  Anyway, she'll let herself in tomorrow, so don't worry about being up."

   "Logan –"

   "Doctor's orders, Ms. Adame.  Sleep, or I'll prescribe a sleep-aid for you."  He kissed the top of her head.  "Go to bed, and I don't want to hear from you before two o'clock tomorrow afternoon.  Understood?"

   "Yes."

   "Ok, then.  I'll see you tomorrow."  Logan opened the door and left, leaving Tess to stand in the middle of her borrowed living room alone and exhausted.  Funny, she hadn't been this tired a few minutes ago.

   "Have a nice chat, niña?"

   Normally someone sneaking up behind her would startle her, but all Tess could work up was a extreme case of underdeveloped irritation.  "What is it Sands?"

   "Oh, nothing much.  I just have a few questions about your conversation, señorita."

   _That superior tone could get really annoying.  Tess picked up her drink and noticed something around the rim, inside the gutter that ran around the edge.  Some liquid must have gotten into it and then dried.  But why would it leave a white residue?  She knew that should concern her, but she couldn't work up enough energy to worry about it.  She yawned.  Understanding hit._

   "Are you listening to me, chiquita?"

   "Yes, but I think your answers are going to have to wait."

   "And why's that?  You have a pressing engagement?"

   "Something like that.  I need to lie down before I collapse."

   "Why would you collapse?"  
   "Because I'm relatively sure that Logan put some sleeping pills in my drink.  The man always has to take things into his own hands.  It's an annoying habit."  Tess weaved down the hall with Sands following behind her.  She was somewhat surprised that he _was_ following her, but she wasn't going to argue.  She couldn't argue, not through the yawns that were coming fast and furious now.  She switched off the light in her room and took off her pants.  Crawling under the blankets, she murmured, "Don't be surprised if I'm not up early in the morning, and don't shoot anyone you might hear moving around.  I don't know if you heard this part of the conversation, but Tina will be coming by for the children."  Whether Sands answered her or not, Tess didn't know.  Sleep claimed her hard and fast, leaving her without dreams, something she was grateful for.

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**Quotes:  **Quotes this chapter are provided for you from – **Lost in Space**, **Johnny ****Depp, ****J.R.R. Tolkien, and ****Silvetris.**

**Author's Thanks:** many thanks, much gratitude, and more appreciation than I can explain goes to **Ashley (my babysitting beta), **Adrejon**, **Scarlett** ****Burns, ****kiare, ****Blank, **TaraRose**, **Merrie**, and **Sue**.  There was a lack of new reviewers this chapter, so I find myself appreciating all of you all the more.  ^_^  This really is a story written for those who keep reviewing and sending in feedback (and quotes?) and bothering me for more chapters.  The new reviewers have always been more of a 'wow – there's more than ___ people reading this.'  But you guys are the ones that inspire me.  Thanks without end.**

Sara


	22. Decision Time

**Author's Note:  Umm . . . the good news is that this chapter is out on time.  (Yay!)  The really good news is, the next chapter will be out early.  Say around Wednesday or Thursday.  It's a good chapter.  So read this, tell me what you think, and be looking forward.  Things are starting to pick up.  Tensions are pulled tighter than ever before, and a whole lot of stuff is going to unravel really fast.  I think I have about five chapters of this fic left at the most.  After that, it's up to you whether or not you want a sequel.  ^_^**

**Author's thanks at end.**

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While Tess slept the sleep of the righteously drugged, Sands spent the night sitting in an armchair in his room, feet propped up on a dresser or something, a cigarette lit more often than not.  He was tired, but had spent too much of the past week in unconsciousness to sleep comfortably now.  Besides, he'd managed to overhear some rather interesting tidbits about his doctor cum hostess.  He had a feeling that it was time to once again review what he knew about the woman; to fit in the new pieces of information that he had about her and see how that changed what he'd already pieced together.

   _Facts first, then impressions.  Sands took a long drag of his current cigarette.  __Her name is Teresa Adame.  Last name unknown.  She was raised within the cartel's main compound from the time she was five.  Eventually went to Harvard Medical, graduated second in her class in 1996, then returned to __Mexico__ because no one here would hire her.  I need to find out why not.  All I know is that she has some kind of disorder that requires her to take boosters shots.  Not a lot of help.  He exhaled._

   _After graduating, she returned to __Mexico__, interned under Guevera – to learn the latest in torture and organ extraction, most likely.  After a year she ran away to meddle in cartel business.  The last of his cigarette burned his fingers.  Sands discarded the butt, hoping he wasn't going to set anything on fire.  _Then, after running away, she stayed in ___Mexico__.  She somehow not only managed to find a contact within the cartel that was unwilling to sell her out, but some shady business partners as well.  Ones that can forge and hack into government files.  Sands sighed.  This was quickly leading into impression territory._

   _Fine then.  La chiquita, Tess, likes to stay in the shadows.  She avoids the notice of old school friends, the authorities, and the cartel alike, but will venture back into her old world when the occasion calls for it.  She knows how to use and care for guns, but doesn't care to use them.  Must be the doctor in her.  _

   Sands reached for another cigarette and found that it was his last one.  _Damn._  Perhaps he'd go to bed soon after all.  _The woman seems to have a hard time focusing her thoughts, yet she has massive amounts of literature stored away in that head of hers apparently always accessible for instant recall._  He lit his last cigarette.  _She likes kids and seems to deal well with them.  She likes classical music, possibly from a classical education – Barillo seemed to be the kind of guy that would value that.  For it's prestige, not for the education itself.  Tess, however, seems to value what she learned and tries to ignore the prestige.  Which is interesting.  Not a lot of doctors do that._

_   From what I've been able to gather, she likes having a clean house.  She **likes**_** _to clean, although she'll also do it when she's uneasy.  For the most part, she's gentle, soft-spoken, patient, caring, minds her own business, and is confident.  _There was only one thing wrong with that assessment, and that was him.  Even her friend had noticed that she acted differently around him.  Around everyone else, she displayed the cool and collected Tess, but somehow he managed to unnerve her.  Not that he minded – it was good for his ego.**

   **_You don't have nearly enough information to be doing anything, Sheldon.  That conversation tonight was a good starting point, but you need to learn more.  You may be in the States, but the danger isn't past._**

   _Tomorrow then.  Tomorrow I'll corner her and get some more answers from her.  With that, Sands finished his cigarette and went to bed, taking his glasses off for the first time in days and making sure to lie on his back._

_Young Sheldon Jeffery Sands never missed an opportunity to watch one of the summer meteor showers.  They were relatively clear outside __Baltimore__.  The city's ambient light didn't extend this far, granting clearer views of the skies, which was just what the boy wanted._

_   He was lying in his tree house, the one that his father had hired people to build at the summerhouse.  If it weren't for the meteor shower that night, Jeffery (anything was better than 'Sheldon') wouldn't even be out here.  When he'd asked his father for a tree house years ago, he'd been so excited when his dad had said yes.  Other boys his age built houses with their fathers.  His had hired contractors.  It was a nice house, to be sure, but it represented another crushed dream._

_   But it had an excellent view of the sky._

_   Jeffery wondered what it would be like to be hit by a meteor.  Not that he was trying to get killed by space debris, but it was an interesting question nonetheless.  Would death be immediate?  Or would you linger on as part of you burned?  His mother would scold him for such grisly thoughts, but they were normal for a boy of thirteen. _

_   Sands, somewhere in the part of his head that wasn't taken up with the dream, remembered that night.  He remembered how he'd fallen asleep watching the meteor shower and how he'd woken up the next morning healthy and whole.  Which was what made the next part of his dream such a shock._

_   As he watched the sky, one of the fiery pinpoints grew brighter and brighter until the light hit him with a physical sensation, like being punched in the gut.  The pain spread through his body, settling in legs, and arm, and head.  His **head.**  His **eyes.**  His eyes were on fire, worse than the time he'd accidentally gotten into one of the maid's container of pepper spray.  He reached up to rub them, anything to ease the burn, but all his hands encountered was blood pouring down his face.  In shock, he screamed and flailed in his bed.  Which was in a tree.  Fifty feet above the ground.  He fell, and when he hit the ground, even his mind turned black and there was nothing but silence and the knowledge that he was alone and broken._

The phone rang the next morning.  At least Tess hoped it was morning, once she realized that there was a phone ringing somewhere.  The light filtering through her eyelids was not the light of morning however, and so she sighed.

_   -Ring-  I really don't want to get up.  I'm exhausted._

_   -Ring-  **That's**** because your 'friend' drugged you last night.**_

_   -Ring-  He did?  That's funny, I don't quite remember that happening._

_   -Ring-  **You**** wouldn't.**_

_   -Ring-  That's getting really annoying._

_   -Ring-  **You**** could try doing something about it instead of complaining.  After all, it's not like you'd be willing to let me answer it.**_

_   -Ring-  If I wait long enough, they'll hang up.  Or an answering machine will pick up.   -Ri –  See?  I told you._  Tess simply laid in her bed still, too unmotivated to move.  This was the real reason she didn't like taking sleeping aids, not even Tylenol PM.  Yes, she got a night of uninterrupted sleep, but she was lethargic for hours after she finally woke up.  The door to her room opened, and Tessa's voice urged her to find out who it was, but she couldn't work up the interest.  Whoever it was would say what they wanted, or they'd go away.  Tess sincerely hoped they'd choose the latter option.  If she was lucky, she could get in a few more hours of sleep.

   "Hey, Doc, are you awake?" _ Sands.  It had to be **Sands**.  I don't want to deal with him now.  Wasn't he pestering me about answers last night?  _

_   **Yeah, he overheard part or all of your conversation with **_**_Logan_****_.  He's probably been listing off all the questions he wants to ask you all morning.  And possibly all afternoon.___**

_   Think he'll go away?_  "I don't know, Pierce, it's awful quiet in here.  Sounds to me like you killed her."  She could hear mockery in the man's voice.  He was either mocking her or Logan.  Or both.  That was likely.  "Hey sleeping beauty, were you planning on getting your ass out of bed anytime soon?  Like today?  Your partner in crime wants to talk to you."

   Damn.  He wasn't going to leave her alone.  "Mmgrphf."

   "Pardon me?"  Sands could have sworn that the woman was usually a bit more coherent than that.  Perhaps she really had gotten an overdose.

   "Which one?"

   "I've never helped you break the law."

   _Not yet.  I don't think you'd be all that adverse to it though.  "What does he want?"_

   "Well, the mumblings on the other side would lead me to believe that he wants to talk to you, although I can't imagine why."

   _Bite me.  "Can I have the phone?"_

   "Have you forgotten one little, _minor_ detail, niña?  Like I can't see you to find you?"

   "That's a load of crap.  If you can identify someone by their footsteps, then you can find my bed."

   Sands was surprised by the fact that his little chiquita was showing the sharp side of her tongue.  He hadn't been aware that she had a temper.  Sure, she got irritated with him, but at the moment her mood could only be described as 'bad'.  It was good to see that she was human.  _I don't want her to be human._

_   **You'd rather have her be perfect?**_

****_I'd rather have her be predictable._

_   **If she's human you'll figure it out sooner or later.  Unless the lack of light is making you lose your touch.**_

   Tess heard feet approaching the bed.  When they stopped, she reached out one arm, searching for the phone.  "That's my knee, señorita.  Although, if you wanted to shift your hand up a bit farther . . ."  Giving up, Tess opened her eyes, moaning when the light hit them.  Too familiar.  The burn in her retinas was too familiar.  She squinted against the light.

   _Where's the blasted phone?  There it was; Sands was holding it several feet above her head.  "You're such a jerk," she muttered._

   Sands heard a body shifting on the bed.  Briefly he wondered what Tess would do if he took a seat on the bed next to her, but he got distracted as he felt the phone be pulled from his hand.

   As soon as she had the phone in her hand, Tessa closed her eyes again.  "Logan Heston Pierce."  That's all she had to say before Logan started profusely apologizing.  Tess let him go on for some time before interrupting.  "What time is it, Logan?"

   "One thirty in the afternoon."

   "And why are you calling me before two?  I seem to remember strict instructions against that."

   "Well . . . when you didn't call, I got worried.  I thought that you'd surely call as soon as you figured out what I'd done.  And I am sorry about that.  I –"

   "Yes, I know.  You knew I hadn't been sleeping, you thought I wouldn't sleep, you didn't want me pacing the floors all night, and, as my physician, you decided to act in my best interest."

   The line was silent for several seconds before Logan asked, "Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

   "It means you're lucky my paranoiac nature didn't take offense and decide that you needed to be eliminated."  Tess felt the bed move, as if someone had sat down on the edge.  And the kids weren't here.  Her eyes popped open to find Sands sitting on the bed, facing her with an expectant look.  _Ah, crap._  "But all joking aside, where are my kids?"

   "Tina took them shopping, and then to Knott's Berry Farm."

   "Logan –"

   "Don't worry about it.  How's your patient?"

   "Ever so much more aware than I am.  It's a dangerous situation."

   "How so?"

   "Don't want to talk about it right now."

   "He's in the room?"

   "Mmm-hmm."  Tess sighed and stretched.  She let out a high pitched squeal as she felt her muscles fight against her.  She really needed to start stretching again.  She collapsed back into the bed.  "Listen, now that I'm semi-awake, I need to run some errands.  Were you planning on coming by tonight?"

   "No, not unless you wanted me to."

   "No, that's alright.  I have a feeling I'll be turning in early this evening.  Sleeping pills have a notorious history of staying in my system longer than they're supposed to.  Is there a car around here that I  can use, or do I need to call a cab?"

   "There's a sedan out front for you to use.  A few of the interns dropped it off this morning.  Compliments of the firm, of course."

   "Of course.  Then I guess we'll be seeing you tomorrow?  What time do you have us scheduled for?"

   "Three.  Is that good for you?"

   "I don't see why it wouldn't be.  We haven't been around long enough to have any previous engagements."  _Although I should get the kids in to see a pediatrician and a dentist._  "Listen, I'll talk to you tomorrow then."

   "Sounds good, Trouble.  Catch you then."

   "Bye."

   "Bye."  

   Tess laid in her bed after hanging up with Logan, watching Sands.  He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, still facing her.  Despite the fact that he had no eyes, she had to fight to keep from squirming under his non-existent gaze.  She could tell he suspected something about her, but didn't know what, and didn't really want to know.  The silence was too much.  "Did you need something, or did your legs just become unable to support you any longer?"

   "What makes you think I didn't just miss the sound of your delightfully hoarse voice?"

   If a little torment was all he had in mind at the moment, then Tess had things to do until he was ready to get serious.  Like grocery shopping.  "Do you mind?"

   "Mind what?  Your voice?  I thought I'd already said that I –"

   "You know I wanted you to leave the room.  I'd like to get ready for the day."

   "Be my guest."  Sands noticed that Tess didn't move.  "I thought you wanted to get dressed or something."

   "I also wanted you to leave."  He didn't move, and Tess was getting the impression that he wasn't going to move.  Tess sighed.  There was one way to get rid of him – pure irritation.  Unfortunately, it would give him one more thing to wonder about her.  But she thought she could live with that.

   **_You, my dearest Teresa, are much too trusting and more naïve than your age deserves._**

_   And you're too suspicious.  _"How sweet and soothing is this hour of calm! I thank thee, night! for thou has chased away these horrid bodements which, amidst the throng, I could not dissipate; and with the blessing of thy benign and quiet influence now will I to my couch, although to rest is almost wronging such a night as this."  __

   "What?"

   "Be obscure clearly."

   "If you're trying to get rid of me, it's not going to work, niña."

   "Your wisdom is consumed in confidence.  Do not arouse the wrath of the great and powerful Oz.  I said come back tomorrow."

   It was clear that Tess was going to be difficult about this.  She was clearly not in the mood to be intimidated.  Sands would have to try again when he would have the upper hand in the conversation.  Tonight, perhaps.  He got up from the bed.  "Truly great madness cannot be achieved without intelligence."

   "Are you saying that you don't trust me, señor?"  He was leaving.  Finally.

   "Do _you_ trust _me?"  Tess was silent.  Sands held back a cynical laugh.  "I think we trust each other only too well, chiquita.  We'll both be better off if you keep that in mind."  Sands left._

   **_He has a point._**

   Tess got out of her bed.  She knew he had a point, but some part of her was shouting denials at the truth of the statement.  _I know he has a point, but without trust there's no healing.  He has to trust me more than he's saying.  Otherwise he wouldn't be here._

_   **And you **_**want_ him to trust you?  _**The voice was expressing disapproval.  **_Fine.  Let's say he trusts you.  What happens if he finds out your last name, Teresa?  What do you think he'd do then?  What do you think finding out  that the woman who he's come to _trust, the word was filled with mockery, **_was not just raised by and in the cartel, but is the illegitimate child of the man who took his eyes.  Think that trust will stand?  Or will he kill you?_**  Tess didn't want to answer because she knew what the answer was.**_  That wasn't a rhetorical question, Teresa._**__**

Tessa was surprised to find herself pacing the floor.  This wasn't one of her normal nervous habits.  _Why are you forcing the issue?_

_   **Because I want to make sure that you won't do anything stupid.  Like get too attached to a man who'd rather see you dead than alive.  Help him so we'll be free, but don't lose your head.  Answer the question.**_

She didn't want to answer the question.  It hurt too much.  _He'd kill me.  But he's not going to find out._

_   **Now whose wisdom is consumed in confidence?  Anything is possible.  Help him then get away from him.  He'd only destroy you even if he didn't kill you eventually.**_

_   Like you?  You don't want any competition, is that it?_

_   **You're mine until I decide I want to share you.**_

_   No!  I'm not yours.  If anything, you're mine.  **I'm the one who's in control.**_

_   **Then why am I still here?**_

   Tess didn't have an answer for that.

The next day came sooner than Tess expected it to.  Sometime after a short afternoon of shopping, reading, napping, and generally trying to evade Sands, the kids had come home and dinner had been served.  She supposed it was the return of the kids that had been Tessa's biggest ally in keeping Sands at an arms length.  Despite his earlier words about trust, or perhaps because of them, he'd been . . . .  Well, watching was the wrong word, and lurking implied that he'd been trying to stay inconspicuous.  Which he wasn't; he'd been openly invading her privacy.  But again, privacy wasn't the word she was looking for.  She'd stayed in the living room reading ever since coming back from getting groceries.  She would have gone into her bedroom but was afraid that she'd fall too deeply asleep if she was anywhere near a bed, so she'd settled for the overstuffed armchair from the night before.  Not that it helped her stay awake, but it did keep her periods of unconsciousness to brief catnaps.

   Sands, when he wasn't lounging on the couch across from her, was outside standing in the sun, smoking.  He spent a lot of time doing that – although part of it was while standing in the doorway, his profile turned to her.  For an hour or so, Tess had found it hard to concentrate, worried that he was going to try something, but when he didn't, she relaxed enough to actually read her book.  Books.  Books and magazines – she was having a hard time focusing.

   She'd managed to get through National Geographic, People, and Newsweek before Sands asked her something.  "Did you really think you'd get it past me?"

   "Get what past you?"  She hoped Sands was talking about something relatively innocent.

   Sands didn't let his reaction to the blandness in her voice get to him.  She was up to something.  The first time he'd heard that particular tone was the day they'd met; the only time that bland voice came out anymore was when she was nervous or trying to avoid answering something.  "These freakin' diet cigarettes."

   "Oh."  Again, Sands hid his reaction; she sounded relieved that he hadn't asked something else.  "I really didn't think about it.  As a doctor I don't really approve of smoking at all.  I'm afraid buying those was an impulse.  A compromise between two evils."  _That,__ and growing up around a cartel quickly breaks you of any desire to get addicted to anything._

   "What are the two evils?"

   "The first would be you and the second would be buying cigarettes in the first place."  Sands tilted his head in acknowledgement, but otherwise declined to comment.  Tess decided to start in on the book she'd picked up.  It was about vampires.

   "You're quiet."

   "What?"  He'd managed to startle her.  Again.  And he probably hadn't even been trying since he was lounging on the couch, arms behind his head, and she hadn't even noticed him come back into the room.  Her book was getting really interesting, although the writing style was a bit . . . eclectic.  It was really requiring all her attention to make heads or tales of it.

   "You're not humming, or tapping, or moving around, or playing anything.  I'm not sure I've ever seen . . . heard you so quiet."

   How much attention had he been paying her if he'd managed to pick on some of her more subtle distractions?  Or were they not as subtle as she thought?  Or had they grown less subtle?  "I'm just . . . really interested in this book," she got up.  "Would you like me to turn on the radio?  Or the TV?"

   Sands simply shrugged.  "I wouldn't want to impose, niña."

   _Since when?_  "It won't bother me.  I'm used to drowning things out.  It helps me focus."  She decided to turn on the TV, quickly changing the channel to CNN.  "Is news alright with you?  I thought perhaps –"  Her voice trailed off.  _Don't say anything unless you can improve the silence._

   "Like I said, whatever."  Actually he wouldn't mind hearing some of the news.

   Time passed.  Tess read her book and blocked out the noise of the TV.  Sands listened to a bunch of old coots argue about the war.  One sounded distressingly like his dad.  "Why are you wearing that hat?"

   "What?"

   "That cowboy hat.  It's not exactly sunny in here."  It was going on five o'clock and Tess was expecting the kids to be back soon.  Her book was fascinating.  Only fifty pages in and already the heroine was faced with saving the life of a vampire (a very big 'no') or leaving him to die in the hands of the other vampires.  It was something the heroine knew she shouldn't do, something that would endanger her life from humans and vampires alike, and that would change her life forever.  If she lived that long.  Tess could sympathize.  It was that thought that made her look up at her companion, and it was looking at him that made her realize he was wearing a cowboy hat of all things.  It really didn't go with the t-shirt that said 'Lord of the Onion Rings.'

   Sands shrugged, hiding his sudden tenseness when he heard the man who sounded like his father being addressed as senator.  _Ah, shit._  "I've got a lot of fond memories of that hat."

   "I've got a lot of fond memories of that _dog.  That's the line.  Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade."_

   "Watch a lot of movies, do you?"  If he could keep her talking until the show was over, maybe she wouldn't notice what he was suspecting.

   "I did.  In college.  Our study group would get together for all night movie parties.  Our senior year, we actually rented a house off-campus together."

   "You were all close?"

   "Yeah, we were.  Or close enough.  We all liked each other, which is more than can be said of some relationships."

   Tess fell quiet and Sands heard a page turn.  "What are you reading?"

   "A book."  Sands flipped her off.  "It's a book, it's called _Sunshine, it's about a world where humans and 'Others' live together, but 'Others' and those with Other blood are . . . considered unhealthy for one's health.  It takes place in a post third-world-war type setting.  Human and Other populations have been decimated, but Others seem to outrank the humans.  And now this perfectly ordinary woman who is only considered special because of her superb cinnamon rolls, has been kidnapped by vampires and thrown to one like a lamb to the wolves."_

   "Mmm . . . going to have his wicked way with her, is he?"

   "No.  He hasn't laid a hand on her, even though he had the opportunity.  She's decided to help him escape with her, even though it's daylight outside."

   "That would give you sucker ashes."

   "No.  She's got some latent magic-handler blood, and she can hold the sunlight off him.  And she has to because she can't escape on her own.  She needs his help and he needs hers.  And neither of them like the alliance."  _Sounds familiar._

   "What's wrong?  Your life isn't strange enough, so you seek peculiarity out elsewhere?"

   "You're welcome to believe that the world is a nice, logical, rational, safe place . . . You'd be wrong, but that hasn't stopped anyone else who thinks the same way.  Perhaps I read this because I can sympathize.  Maybe the stories that talk about women going to charity events and finding mystery lovers who eventually commit to them body and soul are the stories that are too foreign for me to believe."  Tess stopped, wondering if she'd gone too far and if Sands would answer.  Sometimes he did when she got philosophical, and sometimes he didn't.

   She never got the opportunity to find out.  The door slammed open and a tidal wave of youthful enthusiasm rushed in the door.  Tessa rose to answer the raucous clamor and to take Lena from Tina.  She thanked the woman and ushered the kids upstairs to clean up.  Then she threw dinner on the stove and started to cook.  When they sat down to eat, Sands removed himself from the group again.

   _I'll have to make sure he eats later.  He's skipped too many meals from pain and painkillers to skimp on food now._  Sands was back outside on the porch, smoking another cigarette.  The setting sun cast a golden glow on the skin of his arms and face, bronzing him where the moon had turned him silver the night before.  Part of Tess understood the . . . the cleanliness that sunlight could bring.  How it could chase away all the shadows in the mind.  But some shadows hid things that should never be revealed.  An echo ran through her mind, the remnants of a giggle that didn't belong to her.  But the darkness could also swallow things that should never be forgotten.

   The children were ushered to bed along with a bedtime story.

   "And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost.  History became legend, legend became myth, and for two and half thousand years the Ring passed out of all knowledge.  Until when chance came, it ensnared a new bearer.  The Ring came to the creature Gollum, who took it deep into the tunnels of the Misty Mountains.  And there, it consumed him.  The Ring brought to Gollum unnatural long life.  For five hundred years it poisoned his mind.  And in the gloom of Gollum's cave, it waited.  Darkness crept back into the forest of the world.  Rumor grew of a shadow in the East, whispers of a nameless fear, and the Ring of Power perceived.  Its time had now come."

   The sun had set, dusk was a memory, the children were asleep and Sands back in his room.  She was grateful that Sands had never really had the opportunity to interrogate her as he'd threatened.  He also hadn't answered her question about the hat.

   Sands hoped she hadn't caught his father's name on TV.

"So what you're saying is you're going to pump me full of drugs for three weeks – drugs that will have the side effects of causing extreme pain as they help 'regenerate' injured tendons and nerves, that will most likely make me irritable and make me want to give in to moderate to extreme depression, not to mention mild nausea and possible periodic memory loss.  And then after that, you'll operate on me for eight hours, making sure to rebuild my eye-lids while you're at it, including eyelashes.  And lastly, I can expect a five to seven month recovery period – which will also be painful – if the surgery works at all.  If it does work, there's only a thirty percent chance that I'll get complete eyesight back, a sixty percent chance that I'll need corrective lenses of some degree, and a ten percent chance I'll only be able to see colors and shapes."

   "Yes."

   Sands sat in his chair quietly while his mind ran over his options.  He could either stay blind forever, or he could risk it that this would work.  Something had to better than nothing.  The dark . . . it was going to corrode who he was until there was nothing left but a shell.

   "Certainty of death. Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?"

   Damn.  The woman was trying to reassure him again.  And even worse, she had somehow known what direction his thoughts were going in.  Fine, he'd do this.  The sooner he had her off his back, the better.  No, that wasn't right.  The sooner he was able to get by without her, the better.  He needed his life back, and he needed to get away from Tess before he got used to having her around.

   "Ok, Doc.  Let's try this."

   "Well, Mr. Sands, if you're sure about this, then let's get you started."  Logan pushed the intercom button on his phone.  A moment later the door opened and a dark-haired young woman entered the office.  She was dressed in the standard nurse's uniform, but there was a bright smile on her face and a spring to her step.  Tess just looked at her with raised eyebrows.  This . . . _sprite . . . barely seemed old enough to be working in a medical office._

   "Hi, I'm Merrie.  It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Adame."  The woman held out a hand to shake.  Tess gingerly took it, awed by the amount of enthusiasm radiating from the young nurse.  "Ever since Dr. Pierce heard you were coming, he hasn't been able to stop talking about you."

   "Please, call me Teresa."

   "Nice to meet you, Teresa."  Merrie turned her attention to Tessa's patient.  "And you must be Mr. Sands."

   "It's just Sands."  With even more reluctance than Tess had shown, Sands extended his hand.  Merrie took it in the same firm grip that she'd given Tess.  He could tell this girl was peppy – he didn't like pep.  A lack of pep was perhaps the one thing he liked . . . tolerated . . . about Tess.  This chick's voice made it sound as if she'd be better off swooning over some movie star at some dollar theater somewhere.  But despite his reservations, he had to admit that the kid had some handshake.  

   "Okay, Sands it is.  Would you mind coming with me, Sands?  We're going to get your height, weight, blood pressure, and that sort of stuff."  Sands inclined his head and rose from his seat, displaying his latest tacky t-shirt in all it's tasteless glory.  Tess saw the young nurse eye the print (665 – Neighbor of the Beast) with an amused eye and noticed that this was one thing even the energetic woman refused to mention.

   As the two left the room, Tess heard Merrie saw, "Has anyone ever told you that you have a strong resemblance to Johnny Depp?"  Then the door shut, blocking Sands' response.  

   _Probably no more than a grunt – that's what I got._  "It there a reason you're letting your nurses handle this?"

   "They're just handling the preliminary stuff.  But in the meantime, I wanted to talk to you."

   "About?"

   "Well . . . first of all, I'm really sorry about –"

   "Don't sweat it, Logan.  I understand why you did it.  I may even agree with it on some level, seeing how I was getting sleep deprived.  I just wished that you'd talked to me about it first.  It's not as if I'm not able to see reason if it's presented correctly.  As in, bought to my attention at all."

   "I said I was sorry."

   "I know.  Look, let's just drop it as long as you understand that you're not to do that without my consent again."

   "Loud and clear."

   "Good.  What else did you want to talk to me about?"

   "Mmm . . . why don't we talk a walk?"

   "O-kay."  Tess got up from her chair and walked across the room with her friend.  They walked down the corridor and Logan brought them to a halt outside a door.  Tess peeked in the window and saw Sands with a bevy of nurses attending him.

   **_Two women does not a bevy make, Teresa._**

   Tess ignored that comment.  She watched as the two women chattered and laughed and worked.  She had to admit that even with their energy, they were being efficient.

   Logan watched her, noting the way her eyes dismissed the two nurses and focused on Sands.  It was like she was watching for something.  Any sign of discomfort.  Any hesitance.  Any reason to go in the room herself and take over.  That wasn't Tessa's style.  "I'm worried, T."

   "About what?"  Tess turned enough that she could watch her friend but still keep an eye on the man she'd taken under her charge.  This was the first time she could observe him around other people without her presence and she was . . . unduly interested.

   "Sands.  And you."

   Tess sighed.  "I understand why you would be worried about Sands, what with all the lovely side effects of your oh-so-helpful medications, but why are you worried about me?  I can take care of myself, Logan.  I've been doing so for years."  _More years than you can imagine._

   "I know you can take care of yourself, T.  I do.  I know that, and I understand that, and I accept that.  It's the added variables of your new family and your patient that concern me."  Logan saw that Tess was about to protest this, so he quickly continued before she could say anything.  "And if it were _just the kids, I probably wouldn't be worried.  I know that you don't generally take on more than you can handle, but –"_

   "But you're afraid that Sands is going to become more than I can handle."  Tess looked in the window again.

   "You _are_ planning to look after him yourself, aren't you?"  Tess nodded, still not looking at her friend.  Logan noticed her distraction and sighed.  "What's the fascination, T?  There's more going on here than a doctor wanting the best care for her patient."

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**Quotes:** Quotes this chapter belong to **Lord Byron** (which always makes me think of 'Sleepy Hollow' and Johnny Depp's Byronic good looks in that movie.  *le sigh*); **E.B. White**; **Shakespeare's Julius Caesar; ****Frank L. Baum and his The Wizard of Oz; **Henrik** **Tikkanen**; and **Ever******After.**

**Shout Outs:**  Umm . . . **Pixy?  Where art thou?  'Tis been more than a single week since you let me know thou wouldst be gone for a week.  I miss thee?  ^_^  And ****Miss B. – the fit is going to hit the shan and I'd like you to be there for it.  You still about?**

**Author's Thanks:** many thanks this chapter to **Merrie** (who now has her computer back), **The Flaming Chia Pet** (I'm glad you're back, and thank you much for the quotes), **TaraRose (just 10 more days, luv.  Then you can see OUATIM), ****Vaughn, ****gee, **Adrejon** (again, welcome to the JA boards, and thank you very much for the quotes), and ****Blank (also, thank you for the quotes).**

Thanks also go to **Satisdee, my new reviewer for this chapter.  Welcome, thanks for reading, and I hope to hear more from you in the future.  ^_^**

And what was I thinking?!  Many thanks than I can say to **Ashley**, my dear beta, who got this to me despite computer problems.  This wouldn't be here right now if she hadn't been so dedicated, because I am afraid to post anything without her input.  Girl, _YOU ROCK!  _^_^

**_Always looking for more quotes, so if you've got 'em, send 'em in.  I'm running low._**


	23. Blind Man's Bluff

**Author's Note: ok, since some of you were begging for this, and because this is my favorite chapter so far, I'm posting early.  ^_^  Be looking for the next chapter in about a week. **

**Author's thanks at end.**

**Did I mention this was my favorite chapter?  ; )**

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When Tess didn't answer him the first time, Logan repeated his question.  "What's the allure, T?"

   How far could she answer that question without making things uncomfortable for any of them?  "Logan?  Have you ever heard of a _nahual?"_

   "No.  Should I have?"

   Tess shook her head.  "Not many people have.  Long ago, before the Maya came to power in the Yucatan Peninsula, there was a race of people called the Olmecs.  No one's quite sure what happened to them – there's few traces of their civilization left and most assume they were gradually swallowed by the Aztec Empire to the East and the Mayan to the West – but there are a handful of their myths and beliefs that got handed down through thousands of generations to today.  And one of those is that of the _nahual._

   "_Nahual_ is translated into the Spanish tongue as _crío__del__ jaguar.  Child of the jaguar, or more commonly, jaguar children.  Not that this should be confused with __nagual, or wizard, although the Central America word may have some connection.  But I get off topic._

   "It was believed that these children were gifted with the intellect of men, but had the ferocity, strength, and cunning of a jaguar.  It was even believed that they could change into the great cat if the need ever arose.  The Olmec priests, the shamans, were all believed to be _nahuals, for the jaguar was a sacred animal.  Even the Maya believed this to some extent, although that may have been a belief they absorbed along with the Olmecs."_

   She turned her face to Logan without removing her eyes from the man she was talking about.  "It just . . . if you had been there . . . if you had been on the streets of Culíacan that day as the sun beat down, and explosions made the ground tremble . . . if you had seen him standing there, dressed all in black with blood running down his face like the tears of the gods themselves, maybe then you would understand.  There was no reason for that man to be alive, but he was.  I know that I came closer to believing the old myths that day, that I wouldn't have been surprised to see him shift into a jungle cat and run back to the lands where his worshippers had dwelled."  Finally she managed to remove her gaze from Sands.  "I'm sorry, but I can't explain things better than that.  It's just  . . . I  feel that to leave him now would be a great disservice.  I'm not sure I could do it.  Not until I know whether there's still hope for him or not.  I convinced him to come . . . I _made_ him hope, and I can't leave without seeing it through.  I can't give up my duty without feeling as if I'm giving up on him as well.  And I don't want to give you-know-what that sword to hang over my head."

   Well.  Apparently things were more complicated than Logan had suspected.  "This isn't going to be easy, T.  He's going to be . . . difficult to handle."  Tessa's two gunshot wounds seemed to burn with the echoes of pain, even though they were mostly healed.  "And however much you protest against it, you're close to him.  Maybe not in the way that the word is normally meant . . . but I know you.  If I know nothing else, I know _you, and I know that once someone works their way onto your list of people to watch out for, that you feel everything they do.  This won't be easy, and I only mention this at all because I know that you're not even going to balk from the pain this could cause."_

   "I realize it's not going to be easy, Logan.  But do you think it would be any easier if I turned him over to the care of someone else?  If I left details up to my imagination?"  Tess leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.  "You're right – I'm going to be there every step of the way, but that's only because I feel responsible for putting him in this position.  If it weren't . . . ."  _If it weren't for my family, he wouldn't be here._  "I just really need to see this through.  I know Sands won't admit it, but I think he'd be more comfortable if he knows that at least _one person who knows him will be in this to some capacity.  If he knows he's not just being abandoned."_

   "Are you sure that's it, T?"  Logan had never heard Tess use that tone of voice before, although he had wished to hear her use it about him.  But Tess . . . Tess had notions.  And nothing was going to sway her from them.  So he was her friend.  And confidant when she needed one.

   "Yeah.  That's it.  That's all I have to offer."  _It's all I can offer with a free mind and a clear conscience._

   The two friends were silent for several minutes before Logan broke the silence.  "I'm going to have to conduct my own examination.  You know that, right?"

   "I know, and I did mention it to him on the way over.  Just . . . try not to let it show that it," she waved a hand in front of her eyes, "that it bothers you.  He's self-conscious enough about it as it is."  The two nurses were finishing up and preparing to leave the room.  "If he doesn't mind, I'll probably stay in the room, although I don't think I'll make any comments.  We can conference later, although I think I've mentioned everything I noticed."

   "I think I'd feel better with a consult anyway.  You never know when something might occur that would be pertinent to treatment.  And you're still his main physician unless he's claimed another on his records."

   "You got his records?"

   "No, that's what Ashley was doing in there."

   "The one with the black hair?"

   "Yeah.  She's also one of Merrie's friends."

   "Ah . . . sharing the wealth, eh?"  Tess shook her head, trying to act as if their earlier conversation hadn't happened.  The mood could only stay somber for so long before her voice started searching for a distraction.  "Stupid girls."

   Logan grinned at the oft-quoted phrase from their college days.  Tess had never been one to put up with the constant games of flirtation that other people their age engaged in. But then the two women emerged from the room, bringing Sands' chart with them.

   "Here you go, doctors."

   "Thank you, Merrie, Ashley."  Logan started to look at the charts, then looked up.  "Did you get the blood sample?"

   The two women looked at each other.  "No.  We didn't."

   "Why not?"

   "He said he didn't want any more holes in his hide and if anyone was going to come near him with a . . . a 'f'in' needle, then it had better be someone who knew what to expect."

   Tess shook her head.  The man never gave up.  "Well, I guess that settles the matter of whether I'll be going in with you or not.  Shall we?"  Logan looked at her as if she was nuts (which they both knew she was), and went in ahead of her.  Tess followed after hesitating for a moment.  

  _ Even when we act for the noblest reasons, the last link of the chain all too often drips with someone's blood._  She sincerely hoped she wasn't getting in over her head.

Sands heard the chatty nurses leave.  _It's about damn time.  Small doses of pep he could handle, but he'd been cloistered with a peppy nurse and an inquisitive something-or-other for nearly half an hour.  It was a good thing Tessa had taken his guns or he might have put the fear of god in them.  _Or fear of me – either one would be good.__

   The room wasn't silent for long though . . . the sound of an expensive pair of wingtips sounded on the tile of the room.  It was a sound Sands had heard often enough at Company headquarters.  He'd never gone for that himself – too conspicuous.  Must be Pierce.

   "I hear you were terrorizing my staff."

   "Nah – just refusing to cooperate.  It helps the bad-boy image."

   "May I ask what made you balk at getting some blood drawn?"

   Sands resisted the urge to growl.  If this man wasn't careful, he was going to end up on Sands' bad side, and that wasn't a place anyone wanted to be.  But despite his irritation, Sands' voice was bland as he replied.  "Let's just say that I've had some bad experiences with needles of late."  He wondered how squeamish the young doctor was.  _Suppose I'll get the opportunity to find out soon._

   "Come now, Sands.  Surely I'm not that bad with a syringe."  Crap.  When had _she_ gotten in without him hearing her?

   "Apparently you're not _only overly attached to quoting people that the general public has never even heard of, but you're delusional as well.  An elephant gun has more subtlety than you do."  He grinned, but it was brittle.  "Those nurses that just left could teach you a thing or two about a decent bedside manner."_

   Tess knew he was simply going with the game she'd set up – neither one was going to mention anything about cartel henchmen who came armed with hypodermic needles filled with various sedatives.  "Well, I suppose that means I need practice.  Wanna be my guinea pig?"

   "Why not?  Seems to be all I'm good for at the moment."  Sands heard the woman – **_Tess_ – rummaging around.  There were several clinks as she set vials on the table and a snap as she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.  "Enjoy snapping the latex, do we?"**

   This was just another instance that Tess was extremely glad that he couldn't see her, because her face was most likely showing bright red under the natural tan of her skin.  _Damn him for always knowing what to say to overset me._  "I suppose that's for me to know, and for you to never – and I do mean _never_ – find out."

   "I think you just flattened my ego."

   "You don't give yourself enough credit, señor.  I think you have more than enough ego to survive my trivial comments.  Which arm?"  Sands extended his right arm.

   Tess was very careful not to look at either Logan or Sands as she folded the sleeve of Sands' shirt back and fastened the tourniquet around his upper arm.  Paying complete attention to what she was doing, she probed for a vein.  "Make a fist for me?"  His veins were playing hide-and-seek, determined to keep as much blood inside his body as possible, but she found one.  Quickly she smeared a bit of iodine over the site, then said, "Little pinch."  The needle slid in and her syringe started filling.

   Once she had enough blood, she pulled the needle out, let the tourniquet go loose, and taped a cotton ball over the small wound.

   "What do I get for being so good?"

   "A lollypop, the same as all the other good little boys and girls."  Tess knew Sands was being so flippant because he was nervous about the upcoming examination.

   "Well, damn.  If I had know that was all I'd get, I would have misbehaved."

   "There's always next time."  _Needle in hazardous waste bucket, gloves in trash, label vials._  "There someone waiting outside for these?"

   Logan looked up from his study of Sands' chart and nodded.  "Merrie should be waiting."

   Tess went the door where the woman was indeed waiting, handed off the vials, closed the door, and then pulled the shade that was there to provide privacy from those passing in the hall.  Things were about to get ugly.

Tess hadn't said anything when Sands had lit a cigarette on the way home.  She hadn't said anything when he'd asked if she would pull over at a convenience store to buy a carton of non-lite cigarettes and a pack of beer.  She hadn't said anything, but Sands had seemed to know what she was thinking anyway.  "Last day of freedom, niña.  Might as well live it up."

   "You're going to smoke a carton of cigarettes in a day?"

   "No, those are to keep my trigger finger happy while I can't drink."  He'd tossed his wallet in her direction and she'd gone inside.  She'd noticed while she was paying that he'd removed his ID.

   They'd gotten home, Tess had relieved Tina of her charges – although she and the children seemed to have formed a mutual appreciation society – and Sands had gone outside.  She'd checked on him once or twice to find him puffing like a chimney.  She left him alone with his thoughts.  If he wanted to talk – which she sincerely doubted – then he knew where to find her.

   He didn't come find her.

   She colored with the kids, fixed dinner, reminded Sands to eat, translated a showing of Beauty and the Beast, got everyone washed, brushed and into bed.  She went back downstairs, cleaned up from dinner, checked on Sands (who was still outside but drinking a beer now instead of smoking), worried about whether she should do something, decided not to.  Went back inside, sat down, started reading . . . .

   "Gee, Ma.  Didn't know I was out past curfew."

   Tess woke up, wincing as her neck informed her how little it had appreciated her last position.  "I'm not.  You're not."  _That made sense.  "I fell asleep."_

   "You fell asleep in the living room when you have a bed waiting for you in the other room?  Makes sense."  Sands sat down across from her; the scent of his cigarettes drifted over to her.  "You've been hovering all night, señorita."

   "It's hard not to when we're stuck in the same house.  Besides, I've been killing time until Logan calls."

   "Going to reassure the good doctor now that he's had time to calm his nerves?"

   "You do have that affect on people."  They both knew he wasn't what Logan had needed to recover from.  "You reek of smoke – you should go shower."

   "No sponge bath, niña?  I'm disappointed."

   "You'll live.  There's clean towels in the bathroom."  Tess closed her book and stretched.  "This may be the last time you feel like showering for awhile."  Sands shrugged, but moved to get up anyway.  He was almost to the kitchen before her curiosity got the better of her.  "Wait.  I d need to ask you something."  Sands paused, but he didn't look as if he were going to wait around forever for her to say what she wanted.  She got to it.  "I was wondering if you wanted to list Logan as, umm . . . as your main physician.  He _is_ the one who's going to be overseeing your treatment."

   The question took Sands off guard.  Of all the things he'd been expecting, that hadn't been it.  "He going to be checking on me every hour?"

   "I expect he'll be calling often enough to irritate the hell out of me, yes."

   "But you'll be the one here irritating the hell out of me."

   "Yeah.  We have a pretty good system for that – it'd be a shame to break up the act now."

   Sands stood still for a moment as if he were considering something.  Tess was sure he wasn't pondering her question though.  Knowing him, he was wondering what had made her ask and what answer she was looking for.  Finally he shrugged and left the room.  "Do whatever you think is best, chiquita.  You usually do anyway."

Tess wasn't sure if hell was the right word to describe the weeks that followed.  Somehow, it didn't seem quite strong enough.  Not that the sky had fallen on them suddenly.  No, it had taken awhile for Tess to see the full transformation.  And Logan had been right – it was nearly as painful for her as it was for Sands.

   After that the first week and a half Sands was displaying all the side effects that Logan had said would arise, plus some.  Sleeplessness, restlessness, withdrawal, skin sensitivity, and waking dreams.  These extra symptoms were accredited to 'potentially negative interactions between  the prescriptions.'  Tess decided that it was just a run of bad luck progressively getting worse.

   The waking dreams were the worst – worse even than the times where Sands spoke and made perfect sense.  Tess could manage keeping Sands clean when she couldn't apply any more pressure to his skin than the weight of a feather.  She could handle all-night vigils as long as Sands stayed quiet the next morning.  She could handle watching him wander around the house even though she knew that it hurt him to walk.  But the dreams were too similar to hers for her to comfortably handle them.  Even the ones of his childhood, the ones with the echoes of benign neglect, reminded her too much of her family.  She didn't mind the bruises she gathered from keeping Sands from hurting himself when the moment he'd lost his eyes choose to take its place in the private slide show, as long as it meant she didn't have to listen to the lost child in Sands' voice.  Luckily, he never seemed to remember what he'd said as soon as the episodes passed.

   _And with a bit of luck, his life was ruined forever._  _Why does no one ever ward off luck any more?  People used to understand that luck wasn't something you wanted to tempt for good or ill._  Sound drifted into the kitchen from the living room: "What was I doing here? What was the meaning of this trip? Was I just roaming around in a drug frenzy of some kind? Or had I really come out here to Las Vegas to work on a story? Who are these people, these faces? Where do they come from? They look like caricatures of used car dealers from Dallas, and sweet Jesus, there were a hell of a lot of them at 4:30 on a Sunday morning, still humping the American dream, that vision of the big winner somehow emerging from the last minute pre-dawn chaos of a stale Vegas casino."  

   _Then again, I think repeated viewings of 'Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas' is getting to me.  We're going to have to cut back on that.  No more than once a day from here on out.  _Tess wasn't sure why, but the garble emerging from the TV seemed to help keep Sands calm.  If she watched it for too long she found her voice growing stronger for it.  _Audio books and other movies are going to have to help from here on out.  The phone rang.  Tess got up and answered it.  "Hello?"_

   "Hanging in there?"

   "As I was walking among the fires of Hell,/delighted with the enjoyments of Genius;/which to Angels look like torment and insanity./I collected some of their Proverbs."  Tee fell silent, then asked, "How much longer?  How many more days of this do we have left?"

   "Seven days.  One more week.  Are you sure you don't want me to send over a nurse to relieve you, T?  Just for a few hours even so you can take a shower and get some sleep."

   "No!  No, don't send anyone over."  Sands was vulnerable – not that she thought anyone was going to try to kill him – but his mind wandered because of  the drugs.  She didn't want a stranger to witness that.  Besides, with their 'luck', that would be the one and only time Sands would remember what he'd said.  "I'm fine, really.  I caught a couple hours of sleep last night and was able to get a fast shower this morning."

   "How is Sands doing?"

   Tess wearily got up from the table and walked to the entry way – the movie was thankfully almost over.  Sands lay on the couch muttering to himself, or at the TV.  Tess didn't care because the only time he muttered anymore was when he was feeling some measure of quiet.  It was the silence of withdrawal and the yelling of the dreams that she watched for now.  "He's fine.  Resting at the moment and watching that horrible movie."

   "And last night?"

   "He slept, for once.  It's possible that things have gotten as bad as they're going to and now they'll start getting better."  Tess quietly rapped her knuckles against the frame of the door.  "I have to thank you for finding that day program for the kids.  Their grasp of English is growing by leaps and bounds – especially Marcos.  I want to get him into a good school as soon as possible, although I think that Alma and René will benefit from ESL classes for a bit longer."

   "Well, I didn't think you wanted the kids underfoot while . . . you know."

   "Yeah, I know."  Tess went back in and sat down at the kitchen table again, making sure she was seated somewhere where she could keep an eye on Sands.

   "How's the job hunt going?"

   "Slowly."  Tess let out a weak laugh.  "Maybe if I let some of my expectations slide, things would be easier, but I want to get as far away from Mexico as I can while staying in the states, and I don't want to practice medicine, and . . . and I don't know.  It's as if real life is on hold until after the operation, you know?"

   "Yeah, I can understand that."  Logan went quiet before saying in a brighter voice, "There's going to be someone coming out that you're going to want to see."

   "Who's that?"

   "Jess – she decided to come out and see her crazy twin."

   "When's she arriving?"

   "A week after the procedure."

   "It'll be good to see her again."  Tess heard the music for the credits playing.  "Look, I gotta go.  The movie is over.  I'll talk to you later, okay?"

   "Okay."  Tess hung up and went back in to tend to her patient.

"Tía?  Can I talk to you?"  

   Tess, once again at the kitchen table, looked up from her laptop.  Marcos was standing in the doorway.  There was a look of concern on his face, and Tess thought she knew where it stemmed from.  He was finally wondering how much worse things were going to get for his friend, who was outside smoking at the moment.  _Funny how I never had to ask him to do that – something tells me it's not something he normally does.  _ "Of course.  Come have a seat."  She pushed out the chair across from her with her foot.  

   Every night for the past two weeks Marcos had come home from the day center, done his homework, and then read to Sands – for hours sometimes times.  The man never acknowledged the boy's presence, but he did stay calm, something for which Tess was extremely grateful.  "What's on your mind?" she asked once the boy had seated himself.

   "Señor Sands."  The boy was quiet, examining the table.  Tess let him think and collect his thoughts for as long as he needed to.  After several minutes the boy looked up, and Tess felt the impact of the anger and concern in his eyes.  "I thought you were supposed to be making him better," he accused.  "But he's not getting better.  He's worse.  I know that's why you send us away during the day."

   Oh . . . she should have known this was coming.  Marcos was a smart boy and he had a tender heart.  How was she supposed to explain things, though?  "You're right, Marcos, I am grateful that you and your brother and sisters aren't home during the day, and it's not because I don't want you around.  I know that you in particular would do what you can to help me –"

   "Then why can't I stay home?  I'm worried about señor Sands.  I want to help him."

   "I don't want you here because . . . because señor Sands does not always remember where he is because of the medicine he's taking.  I know how to take care of him, so I stay.  I also want you and your siblings to be able to learn.  Don't you enjoy school?  Don't you enjoy learning new words and math and being with other kids your age?"

   Marcos nodded, but his eyes still held a bit of rebellion.  "I do.  But I still think about el señor while I'm there.  When is he going to get better?  Why isn't the medicine helping?"

   Tess reached over and took the boy's hand.  He refused to look at her and she suspected that it was to keep tears from falling.  "I know it's hard to understand, but the medicine _is helping."  _

   The boy sniffed.  "Then why does he hurt so much?"

   How to explain?  "I know it seems like medicine should be able to help people feel better without making them feel worse in other ways, but that's not always the case, Marcos.  Sometimes in order to make people feel better, we . . . we have to get rid of all the other bad stuff.  It's like when you have a . . . a crate of avocados.  One day you look in the crate, and you see that there's a rotten one on top, so you take it out and throw it away.  The next day there's another rotten one, and then again the day after that.  So you dig through the _entire_ crate, and find there's a lot of rotten fruit at the bottom.  That's what was making the fruit on top go bad.  Sometimes making people feel better is like that; you have to dig to the very bottom and dig out all the rotten stuff before they can start to heal."

   "That's what you're doing to señor Sands?"

   "That's what I'm trying to do, yes."  She tipped his face up so he was looking at her.  "Feeling better?"  The boy nodded.  "Good.  Then you can help me get the young ones ready for bed."

Tess woke up at two in the morning when she heard someone moving around.  She rubbed her eyes, trying to remember when she'd fallen asleep.  It really didn't matter, but it was better than wondering what Sands was up to now.

   **_Ignore your duty, that's a good one._**

   _I'm not ignoring – I'm delaying._

   **_Coward._**

**_You're absolutely right._  Tess stood up and surveyed the darkened room – Sands was nowhere to be found.  Again came the sounds in the kitchen.  It sounded like the rattling of pill bottles.  Tess froze; the fridge door opened and shut, the legs of a chair scraped across the floor, there was a hissing sound followed by the sound of a bottle cap hitting a hard surface.  _Damn it!  I knew I should have gotten rid of what was left of the beer._**

   Tess quickly left Sands' bedroom and crept down the hall towards the kitchen, pausing at the threshold.  She didn't bother turning on any lights – it'd be more of a hindrance than a help at the moment.  The moon was full and shone in through the window, providing more than enough light to see what Sands was doing.  He was sitting in a chair with an open bottle of beer, several pill bottles, and a gun in front on him on the table.  _Shit._

   Slowly, Tess walked into the kitchen.  Her bare feet slapped against the floor, letting Sands know that she was coming.  Now was not the time for surprises.  Still moving slowly, she too pulled out a chair and had a seat.  For awhile they sat there with the beer, the pills, and the gun between them.  Tess wondered how he'd found the gun.

   "The best way to predict the future is to invent it."

   "Alan Kay."

   Sands nodded.  "Wise words.  I did that.  And it was all fun and games until someone got their eyes poked out."  He laughed, and Tess cringed at the sound; it was harsh and full of self-ridicule.  "What do you think, Doc?  If Humpty Dumpty had had a doctor instead of a bunch of witless horses and horsemen, would he have ended up as fucked over as I did?"

   What was she supposed to say?  She didn't even know this man's first name.  How was she supposed to help?  "I know what it's like to want to die. How it hurts to smile. How you try to fit in but you can't. How you hurt yourself on the outside to try to kill the thing on the inside."  She took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice from shaking.  "What is it you're trying to get rid of tonight, Sands?  What's driving you to do this?"  Sands didn't answer, but he pressed the heels of his hands against his temples as if to squeeze whatever was bothering him out of his head altogether.  It was an action Tess was all too familiar with.  _Oh, please god, no.  Please tell me this hasn't pushed him off the deep end.  I'm already floundering.  "Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets.  Tell me, Sands."  He shook his head.  "What does it say?  What are you always trying to drown out?"_

   "I can forgive everyone's mistakes but my own," he muttered.  "Cato.  He was right."

   "And this is the answer?  A cocktail and a bullet?"

   "So I'm told."  He reached to close his hand around the bottle, although he didn't try to take a drink.  Something was making him hesitate and she had to take advantage of it.

   "The devil is easy to identify.  He appears when you're terribly tired and makes a very reasonable request which you know you shouldn't grant."  Tess reached to move the gun, but Sands' hand slammed down on hers, trapping it against the table.  "Don't grant this request Sands.  We're so close."

_   "IT HURTS."_

   Tessa's voice became soothing.  "I know it does.  I know.  And I'm sorry for that.  I would take that if I could.  But . . ." her mind was racing desperately.  "For the living know that they will die; but the dead know nothing, and they have no more reward, for the memory of them is forgotten.  Also their love, their hatred, and their envy have now perished; nevermore will they have a share in anything done under the sun."  She had moved around the table as she'd been talking, stopping when she was standing in front of Sands.  She knelt down on the floor in front of him and took another breath.  The hand he'd trapped earlier was still holding on to his.  "Sands, give me the gun.  Please."  If she could start with that, perhaps there was hope.

   For long seconds, Sands didn't move.  Then his arm lashed out and sent the gun flying.  It went over the edge of the table and hit the floor.  Tess held her breath until it settled without firing, then let out a shaky breath.  If the safety hadn't been on, she'd be dead at the moment – the muzzle was pointing directly at her.  "Sands . . . ." her voice was barely more than a breath.

   "I can't do this.  The pain, it's too much.  It's driving me fucking crazy.  I can't _do this."_

   _I can't do this, Sam._  "I  . . . I know.  It's all wrong.  By rights we shouldn't even be here.  But we are.  It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo.  The ones that really mattered.  Full of darkness and danger, they were.  And sometimes you didn't want to know the end.  Because how could the end be happy?  How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?  But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow.  Even darkness must pass.  A new day will come.  And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.  Those were the stories that stayed with you.  That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why.  But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand.  I know now.  Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't.  They kept going.  Because they were holding on to something."  Tess squeezed the hand that still hadn't pulled free of hers.  "I'm holding on.  Don't you dare let go."  Sands was still sitting without answering her.  She hoped he was thinking and not blocking her out.  "Who is more foolish, the child afraid of the dark or the man afraid of the light?"

   What was it about quoting smart people that made even complete idiots seem more intelligent?  And the woman had to be an idiot if she was going to cry over him.  He could hear the tears lurking in her voice.  _I'm sick of the dark.  It was the dark that had driven him to this tonight.  But it was hard getting back to the light.  It hurt – it made his entire body throb as if he were caught in a particularly bad case of the flu.  It would be so much easier just to toss back the beer and let that be that.  __I've never liked doing things the easy way._

_   **Not to mention you don't want her to cry.**_

**_Fuck you._  "You're a damn _necia, Teresa Adame."_**

   A fool.  Tess sighed with relief.  She could live with being a fool.  She stood up and moved to put away the pills and dispose of the alcohol, not to mention put the gun away.  She stopped short when she realized that Sands hadn't let go of her hand.  "Señor?"

   **_This is where he kills you for getting too close.  He may not be as strong as he was a few weeks ago, but I bet he could still crush your windpipe.  I wonder how long it would take and whether it would wake the children._**

   The darkness was still too close for him to let go of his life preserver.  The waves could still pull him under.  If the damn woman wanted him to 'hold on,' she was going to have to live with the consequences of that.  He stood and felt Tess move as far from him as possible.  Was it revulsion or fear?  Knowing his little angel of death, it was fear.  The woman was too much of a puzzle for him to solve.  "I'm tired, _custida_."

   Guardian angel.  Tess felt her load of responsibility shift at the new appellation, felt it settle more heavily on her shoulders.  Things weren't supposed to have gotten this involved.  She was supposed to have handed him over to Logan, and then Sands was supposed to ignore her.  **_Best laid plans, Teresa . . . although you are much more the mouse than the man.  _**"Let me put things away."  She'd put the lids back on the pills, pour out this beer, pick up the gun, and deal with the rest in the morning.  Sands needed his sleep.

   She led him back down the hall to his room, then tried to settle him on the bed, but he still wasn't letting go.  When she tried to pull her hand free, his grip tightened until she had to hold back a gasp of pain.  She looked at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but his face was a mask.  The muscle in his jaw jumped before he growled a single word.  "Please."

   **_I told you he'd take advantage.  Going to give in, or are you going to fight?_**  The voice paused before asking in a silky voice,**_ Remember how much fighting hurt the last time?_**__

_   Shut up.  You're wrong.  He's not . . . that's not what's happening here.  If it was, he wouldn't ask.  He just doesn't want to be left alone.  I wouldn't want to be left alone with you either._  Tess prayed that she was right as she climbed onto the bed, kneeling by Sands where he was seated.  He pushed her back until her back was pressed against the wall.  She fought to control her voice, fought to stay calm.  A breakdown could not be afforded now.

   Once Sands had her settled, he turned his back on her and leaned back against her.

   Tess froze as she felt his weight come to rest against her.  This wasn't what she'd been expecting . . . not that she'd known what to expect.  Minutes went by without either of them moving.  Tess finally decided that this was all that was going to happen.  Slowly, she let her muscles relax.  

   Sands felt her decision to stay.  "You're too bony," he complained.

   "That's your own spine, Sands.  You've lost some weight." Tess shifted and pulled one of pillows from behind her back, moving the one that remained so pillowed her own back.  The one she pulled free she slipped between their bodies so that only her arms were touching him.  No other complaints slipped from her patient's mouth, and soon he fell asleep.

   Carefully Tess wrapped her arms around his body and rested her cheek on the top of her head.  It was going to hurt when she left.

******************************************************************

**Quotes: **gee, there's a lot this chapter.Lunch at the Gotham Café, by **Stephen King**; **Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, by **William Blake**; **Alan Kay**; ****'Girl, Interrupted'; ****Fannie Brice; ****Cato; **Fiorello** **La** ****Guardia; **Ecc**. **9:5-6**; ****J.R.R. Tolkien; and **Maurice** **Freehill**.**

**Author's Thanks:**  thanks go to **Adrejon (umm . . . *looks at evil plan* yes, angst is on the menu for some time to come, really.); ****Merrie (oh, I like subtlety.  Means I can get away with a lot without ever coming right out and saying it, yet will set things up for future events should I choose to go in the direction everyone seems to want me to go in.); ****gee (I hurried, but now you're going to have to wait a bit for the next chapter. Oh, and thanks for the proverb.); **TaraRose** (thanks – that tension and I have fights over how strong its going to be.  My tension seems to be really lazy so I really have to kick its butt to get it to go to work. : P); ****The ****Flaming **Chia** **Pet** (the reason the death quotes have been missing lately is because I'd used up all the good ones I had.  I don't want to use second-rate death quotes.  ^_^  But Pixy sent me some more.); **Pixy** (I would never banish you from my multicolored sight.  But the quotes were all very nice, and I must thank you for helping to replenish my stock.  I was running quite low.); and **Satisdee** (yes, the whole eye lid thing.  You know, other than the fact that this entire thing is more impossible than improbable, I seem to be getting away with it.  ^_^  That's what a fic is all about, I suppose.)**

Also, thanks to my new reviewers: **SavvyJackSparrow (I'm trying to write at least one fic about Sands and an OFC that _does not include romance, simply because all the others do.  Next fic I'm throwing that out the window since all my test material seems to be keeping both characters believably in character.) and **Arfie** **the** _****Duck (thank you so much for your complements over Tessa.  I'm glad that everyone is liking her so much.  Also glad you like how Sands is coming out.  He's a hard guy to pin down and get on paper.  And the quote?  It'll definitely get used sooner or later.  It just works so well for this fic.)**

Ok folks, that's it.  **_If you have any quotes you want to send me, please do.  This chapter seriously drained my stash.  _**


	24. Fallen

**Author's Note – ok, ok, ok.  I can take the hint.  You're all pestering me for more, and here it is.  Just let me know if I ended in a good spot.  ; )**

**Hope you've all gotten the chance to see OUaTiM . . . that's what I've been doing lately.**

**Author's thanks at end.**

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Tess woke the next morning as the sun pierced her eyelids.  She moaned as her neck and back let her know they did not appreciate having spent the night sitting up against a hard wall.  Her eyes opened, squinting as light came in the wide open windows.  She looked down; there was a dark head resting against her collarbone.  Sands had twisted sometime during the night so that his temple was resting above her heart.  Tess sighed, wondering how she was supposed to get out of bed without waking her companion.  Almost without thought, her hand came up and brushed some hair out of his face, revealing that he was still wearing a pair of sunglasses.  She would have preferred that he have something wrapped over his eyes, but his nerve-endings were even more alive now than they had been in Mexico; the pain would have been too much.

   **_Danger, Will Robinson._**  The voice sent a surge of panic through her, making its opinion known.

   Tess noticed what her hands were doing.  _I need to get out._  Very, very carefully, she shifted Sands off her and onto the bed, making sure he was lying on his back to keep the arms of his glasses from digging into his face.

   **_Get moving._**

****_I have to make sure he's alright.  That **is** my job.  It was chilly in the room, so Tess went to the closet and got a light blanket to cover Sands with._

_   **Then make sure you keep things businesslike, Teresa.  You don't want him to start to influence any part of your life.  He's like me – you'd never be able to control him.  I'd use him, you know that.  He'd become my unwitting ally in your eventual mental destruction.**_

****_You may be able to control me, but you can't control him._

_   **You really want to bet that madness can't spread?**_

   "I'm leaving, alright?  You can stop your nagging and your threats."  Tess paused despite her words.  If they could just get through this next week.  Six more days.  Then perhaps the sun would be able to wake him as well.  As she stood looking down into Sands' face, Tess whispered, "For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,/And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;/And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,/And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still."

   Tess was halfway out the door when the sound of  Sands' voice stopped her.  "I was wondering when you were going to show up."

   "What?"

   "You.  My very own angel of death.  Are you quoting one of your dead friends, or were you simply reading my future?"

   Tess came back to the bed, unsure if he was even aware of what he was saying.  Was _he in control, or was the mood from the night before still in control?  She'd hoped that a night of sleep would help his mind rejuvenate, but perhaps it hadn't.  "Sands?"_

   "I do have a request to make though.  If you're going to take me, would you stop dragging it out?  It's bad enough that I hurt all the time but the boredom is nearly unbearable."

   "Sands, you're talking nonsense."  Tess reached out to touch him, stopping at the last moment.  Nothing before this had really frightened her, but this was coming close.

   **_He is one of those men who would be enormously improved by death._**  The voice smirked.  **_All of us are constantly being bombarded by particles of misplaced schizophrenia.  Some of you are just more vulnerable that others.  Either by some mental defect, like you, or through forced defenselessness, like your friend._**

_   It's a good thing he'll be off the medications soon then, isn't it?_

_   **And what makes you think that any of us give up easily once we've taken root?**_

   _He's not the type to give in.  Not forever.  Eventually he'd kick your ass._

_   **You're probably right.  I guess that makes you a weakling, doesn't it?**_

   "Stop it.  Just stop it already."  If placing her hands over her ears would have done anything other than make the voice easier to hear, then she probably would have done it.  "You're just teasing me now."

   "You're no fun, _chiquita_."  Tessa's attention snapped from her voice to Sands' voice.  "You make me stop teasing and I'll have nothing left to fill my days with."  She couldn't deal with this at the moment.  Tess turned on her heel and left the room before things got more confusing – before her voice could start in again.  Before Sands could go through another mood swing.  Before she gave into the temptation to find a quiet corner somewhere and let the world take care of itself.  As she closed the door, she heard Sands' self-satisfied laughter and heard her voice pick up where he'd left off after the door had cut off the sound of his conceit.  

Sands laid in his bed for some time after Tess left the room.  His head throbbed, the space behind his forehead screamed, and his back was strangely cold.  But that was nothing when compared to feeling that something had happened the night before that he couldn't remember.  Which was ridiculous, because he remembered going to bed the night before, listening to the quiet turning of pages as Tess sat across the room from him. But there was still that feeling . . . .

   To be quite honest, it had been a shock to wake up and find her mumbling over him.  For a moment he'd had a hard time remembering where he was; reality, memories of Mexico, and his dreams had mingled together in a seething mass that threatened to overwhelm him.  So he'd started talking.  Hearing his own voice seemed to help cut through the confusion at times, even if it only helped him remember who he was and not who he was with.

   That was the worst part of it . . . the times when his mind wandered.  The lack of control he had and the lack of memory that often went with it.  The knowledge that Tess was there for it all and the fact that she never said anything.  Despite feelings that smothered him at the thought that he was saying and doing things without any knowledge, he couldn't bring himself to ask his nurse what actually happened in the periods he couldn't remember.  And she never asked him anything that with what he couldn't remember talking about, which she would have if what he'd been saying had been trivial – which meant he could have been spilling all his darkest secrets and dancing around the house naked.  Damn the woman for not being more inquisitive.  For being silent.  For being supportive.  For being harmless enough for him to start to trust her.

    **_There's a brilliant idea.  Trust.  If I remember correctly, this entire predicament can be laid at the feet of people you 'trusted' but were proven to be rather . . . untrustworthy.  Well, except for the rat you hired to get 'El' and his team into the president's residence._**

_   I didn't say I did trust her.  Just that I think she couldn't hide a thing to save her life.  Even her silence screams information._  God, his superego or whatever had gotten insistent lately.  

   **_Well, as useful as that may seem, I must also point out that you thought much the same of Ajedrez, so forgive me if I don't really trust your judgment in these matters.  And just in case you haven't noticed, Sheldon, betrayal can be harmful to one's health._**

****_To betray, you must first belong.  That doesn't apply in this circumstance._

_   **Make sure you keep that in mind.**_

_Three more days.  Just three more days._  If doing so wouldn't have been life-threatening, she would have resorted to keeping Sands sedated by now.  Luckily, he didn't have much energy any more either. _He's not even up yet today._

   Tess heard the front door open and close but didn't bother looking to see who it was.  It could only be Tina or Logan; they were the only ones with keys to the house.  

   **_Well, that or Mr. Keel finally tracked you down and is now going to take you back to Mexico to face whoever is intent on taking over the cartel._**

****_By now, that would seem like a vacation.  At least then I would know what to expect.  Tessa raised her eyebrows without opening her eyes; she heard two sets of footsteps.  And they both sounded like women's._

   "Well, I can see that my evil twin wasn't exaggerating when he said that you needed a break."  The woman's voice was full of wry humor and a bit of exasperation.  It wasn't Tina.

   _I know that voice._  Tess opened her eyes to find Jessica Pierce, Logan's twin sister, standing in the threshold of the living room, her arms crossed carelessly over her chest.

   "I hope you don't take any offence, T, but you look like death warmed over."

   "_Jessica_."  Tess stood up to greet her friend but instead found herself reaching for support as the blood drained from her head and the room spun.

   "Easy there, Trix."  Jessica had moved across the room when she'd seen Tessa go pale.  "I know you won that diving competition our freshman year, but I'd prefer you not reenact it without a pool."

   "I'm fine."

   "Of course you are.  You're always fine."  The two women sat back down on the couch.  "You also smell.  As soon as you're able to stand up without passing out, I want you to go take a shower."

   "I can't.  I have to look after Sands.  Where's Tina?  And I thought you weren't coming until next week."

   "Yes you can, leave Sands to me, Tina's putting away some groceries before she hurries off to assist my brother, and I came early."

   "Why?"

   "Because Logan called me and said that he was worried about you.  So I took some sick leave and flew out.  Shower.  Now.  We can talk later."  

   Tess shook her head but did as she was told.  Jessica was one of her best friends and more importantly . . . no one ever said 'no' to her.  Logan was the laidback twin, Jessica the overachiever.  If Jess wanted her to take a shower, then that was what Tess was going to do.  "Umm . . .make sure you make noise and perhaps hum so Sands knows there's someone else in the house besides the two of us.  He's been a little . . . jumpy lately.  I don't want any misunderstandings."

   "Will do.  Go take a shower.  You'll feel better after you do.  Just don't faint while you're in there because I'm not big on doing first aid on people while they're in the nude."

   "I thought you were an OB-GYN."

   "I am."

   "Then wouldn't it be more precise to say that you're not used to giving first aid at all?"

   "Teresa.  Shower.  Now.  Or I'll really make you regret it."

   "Mmm . . . nice to see you too."  Tess got up and went into the bathroom, not at all surprised to find that she'd missed Jessica even more than she'd missed Logan.

   Once she heard water start running, Jessica went into the kitchen.  Tina was still there unpacking and putting away groceries.  "I want to thank you for keeping an eye on T.  She's a fighter but sometimes she doesn't know when to give up."

   Tina just nodded her head.  "To tell you the truth, I was getting a little worried about her myself.  The other day I caught her looking at a rather large bruise on her side; Marcus and Lena, the oldest of the four children she took in, tell me that she stays up most of the night.  She's taking her responsibilities very seriously."

   "Yes, well, that's Teresa for you.  She tells very wild stories of her college days, but she never mentions that they only happened after she'd gotten all her studying and homework out of the way.  And extra credit if it was being offered."  Jessica shook her head.  "The only reason she has any escapades to tell stories of is because Ingrid took her under our collective wing."  Logan, Inge and Jess had all grown up together, but while the twins had opted not to live in the dorms, Inge had, and Tess had been her roommate.  For the first semester of school, Tessa had been a very serious little freshman . . . and then she'd joined their study group.

   Tina chuckled.  "Looks like you've got your work cut out for you then.  As do I.  Today I'm briefing the other nurses who'll be assisting in the operation about what to expect and what procedure to follow.  Your brother has everything planned out down to the last second."

   "I can believe that.  By the way, thanks for the ride up here.  I think I can take care of things from here on out."  Tina smiled and left and Jessica surveyed the kitchen.  "Well, let's see what there is around here to eat."

"So, Logan tells me that you're looking for a job.  Are you finally going to settle down?  In the US?  Where your friends can visit you without getting a series of shots and packing their own water?" 

   "Jess . . .  I had things to finish in Mexico."  Tess didn't say what and Jessica didn't ask.

   "So you're going to settle in LA?"

   "No.  Too warm.  Why do you ask?"

   "Well, it seems as if you have a rather large loose end in your spare bedroom."

   Tess looked at her friend, then set her fork on her plate.  Breakfast had been very good, but now it was sitting in the bottom of her stomach like a lead weight.  "What do you mean?"

   "Tess.  We've known each other for years.  Because I'm a woman, I know you even better than Logan does, and you've managed to worry him.  As much as I love my brother, he's a _guy and guys don't worry.  He said you were courting disaster by taking care of this man single-handedly, and I thought he was overreacting.  He's had a low-level crush on you for years ­–"_

   "He has not."

   "Yes.  He has.  You've just trained yourself not to notice it."  Tess didn't argue, so Jess continued.  "Anyway, now that I've seen you for myself, I'm inclined to agree with him.  Tess, you _can't_ just go around skipping sleep and putting yourself in stressful situation after stressful situation.  Not if you don't want to end up –"

   "Jess, I know this."  Tessa leaned across the table and whispered to her friend in a burning voice, "I know this better than you ever will.  _I'm the one with a voice in the back of their head telling them that if they're not careful, they're going to end up dead.  I understand that when I took in a family of orphans that I was committing myself to at __least another eighteen years of responsibility.  But I have a responsibility to Sands as well, and I don't intend on deserting him."_

   "I'm not asking you to desert him, T.  I'm asking you to look after yourself.  To get a decent night's sleep.  Do you know what Tina told me?  She said that you're managing to worry your young charges as well.  They've lost one set of parents.  If the one adult they're depending on for stability goes around the bend, what do you think that will do to them?"

   "I'm not anywhere close to –"

   "How many booster shots have you given yourself in the past week, Tess?"  Tess fell silent, cursing her overly-attentive friends.  She didn't need a babysitter, and she didn't need a nurse.  At least she didn't think she did.  "Tess?"

   "Four."  Tessa's voice was barely audible.  "I've given myself four injections.  And I thought about taking another one this morning but couldn't work up the energy to go into my room."

   "Four."  Things were worse than she'd thought.  "We both know that it's normal for you to only need to use one or two in a _month.  What are you __thinking, Teresa?  If you're not careful, you're going to make yourself sick and build up a nice dependence at the same time."_

   "I know.  It's just that Sands needs me . . ."

   "Look, we can talk about that later.  Right now I want you to get some sleep."

   "I can't.  What if he –"

   "Then I will come wake you up.  Or you can sleep on the couch if you want.  I don't care as long as you get some sleep."

   Tess blinked slowly, trying to quiet the part of her mind that was trying to tell her that Jessica had no reason to be telling her what to do and she needed to shut up.  _Friends stick their noses in each other's business.  That's how things work._

_   **They're lucky they don't get their noses shot off.**_

****_We don't have a gun._

**_   Yes, but we know where you stashed Sands'._**

   Rather than continue that conversation, Tess forced herself to focus on something else.  _The woods are lovely, dark and deep./But I have promises to keep,/And miles to go before I sleep,**/And miles to go before I sleep.  She sighed.  "Fine.  You win.  I'll take the couch.  Wake me when Sands starts moving around."****__**_

   "Will do."  Jessica had no intention of doing any such thing.  She'd let Tess sleep until she woke up on her own.

   Tess looked at her friend as if she knew what she was thinking, then went into her bedroom to grab a blanket and a pillow.  She caught an a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and she turned to look at herself.  _Man . . . maybe they're right._  Her hair was hanging damply around her face, she was pale under her tan, there were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked skinny.  Perhaps she'd lost some weight as Sands had suggested that night.

   **_Yes, let's do talk about 'that night.'_**

****_No.  I'm going to bed.  Using what was left of her mental energy, Tess slammed the door on her voice and went into the living room, dragging her blanket behind her like a young child.  Throwing her pillow on the couch, she soon followed it, quickly dropping into sleep to the sound of quiet classical music and the soft clanging of pots and pans as Jessica cleaned up the kitchen._

Logan sat in his office, taking a break from reviewing every step of his procedure for a last time.  He was going to do all he could to ensure that Sands got his vision back.  And half the battle was preparation.  

   "Dr. Pierce?"  Logan looked up to see Ashley standing in his doorway.  He raised his eyebrows, a silent inquiry into what she needed.  "A package just came for you, doctor."

   "Oh," he gestured for her to enter his office.  She did, only staying long enough to hand him the large manila envelope before leaving him again.  Logan looked at the postmark on the envelope; it had been sent from San Antonio.  For several moments he stared at the packet, tempted to open it.  Then, slowly, he placed it in his briefcase.  The information in that envelope was for Tess.  He'd stay out of it until she felt like sharing.

Jessica had cleaned the kitchen, started several loads of clothes, and made herself a cup of tea by the time that Sands woke up.  Jessica had never been a big fan of classical music, so as soon as her old school friend was asleep, she'd moved the radio dial to a top 20 station.  That's how Sands had immediately known that someone else was in the house.  

   He paused halfway down the hall when he heard someone singing softly under their breath.  He hadn't heard Tess sing for long, or even in English, but he'd stored the sound of her voice in his head along with the information that she wasn't a follower of pop music.

   Swearing in his head the entire time, Sands found his way into Tessa's room.  Once inside, he found her closet and reached under a pile of spare pillows, pulling out one of his gun belts.  The woman was obviously not used to having to hide things.  As Sands shook his head, he fastened the belt and holsters around his waist.  Then he went to her dresser and rummaged until he found the clips she'd removed from the guns.  _La señorita really needs to learn how to make sure no one is eavesdropping on her._  

   Prepared, he walked back into the hallway and approached the kitchen, hands poised to reach for a gun should the need arise.  Sands paused in the threshold of the kitchen and kept listening.  A cell phone rang, and the unknown woman answered it.

   "This is Jessica . . . yeah, I convinced her to take a nap. . . . What?  Oh, no.  I haven't seen hide nor hair of him yet. . . . Well, that would be up to her, but I'll see what I can do – I think she could use the time to relax. . . . Yes, yes, _yes.  I understand that you might want to see your long lost twin."  The woman laughed.  If Sands was any judge of these things, it sounded as if she were sitting with her back to him.  "That was entirely uncalled for, and I __will make you pay for it.  I'll talk to you later, alright?  Bye."_

   There was a beep as the woman hung up the phone, and a faint scraping sound as if she'd picked something up.  He shook his head – so many people went about their lives as if no threats ever came up unseen.  He knew better and he'd still gotten burned.

   Still making sure to remain silent, Sands removed a cigarette from behind his ear.  Then he let the click of his lighter sound in the silence as he lit the cigarette.  His ears picked up a small gasp and he smirked.  It was good to know that he could sneak up on someone other than his absent-minded nurse.

   **_Doctor._**

****_Whatever.  _

   While he was busy arguing semantics with himself, Jessica collected her wits.  "You must be Sands.  It's nice to finally meet you."

   Sands cursed for letting the woman recover before he could say anything, covering his agitation by taking a long drag on his cigarette.  "I'd say it was nice to meet you _desconocida_, but I don't believe we've been introduced yet.  I do so hate to jump the gun."  He smiled at his own joke.

   Jessica didn't introduce herself right away.  She knew by now that this was a man that if you didn't establish yourself as a force to be reckoned with immediately, then he'd walk all over you.  "Well, from what I've heard, you've probably been standing there long enough to make an educated guess about who I am."

   Sands bit back the urge to curse at the woman.  He got the distinct impression that this woman would give as good as she got, and he wasn't exactly at the top of his game at the moment.  "Still, it's always nice to have one's assumptions proven to be right.  And since you already know who I am, then I think the introductions are up to you."  He moved into the kitchen, hooked a chair leg with his foot, and sat down.  Once seated, he waited expectantly for the woman to pick up the ball.

   Jessica watched Sands, noticing the wrinkled khakis, the white shirt emblazoned with 'WTF?', and the hat that looked as if it'd be more in character with a seventy-year-old Floridian shuffleboard player.  The only thing that stuck out were the sunglasses he was wearing inside the house and the rather prominent gun belt strapped around his waist.  Then she noticed the arrogant grin on his face.  She could handle him – she'd worked with doctors like him.  And it was hard to find anyone more arrogant that a male doctor fresh out of med school.  They were one of the reasons she'd gone brunette.

_Tess was standing in a room.  It was bare, sterile, and empty but for two people.  Well, three people if she counted herself, but this was a dream and she knew that although she could see the room, she wasn't really there._

_   Deciding she had nothing better to do, she walked . . . floated . . . **moved over to stand in front of the two people in the room.  As she did, things came into focus; a bed, monitors, curtains, a window.  **_I know this place.  It's a hospital room,_ she thought.  With that realization, she was in front of the two people in the room.  Curious, she examined their faces: it was __Logan__ and Sands.  Logan was in a lab coat and had a stethoscope around his neck, Sands was in a hospital gown and had bandages around his eyes._

_   "Ok, it's been two weeks.  It's time to take off the bandages.  I've already turned the lights down pretty low."  Were the lights low?  Tess could see everything as if they were standing in strong daylight.  "You're not going to be able to see anything, but that's not what we're looking for right now.  Right now we want to see if you can detect low levels of light.  Ready?"  Sands merely shrugged.  "Alright, I'm going to cut away the bandages."_

_   Tess watched, her curiosity turning into horror as blood started to show on the bandages, slowly starting to trail down Sands' face.  She gasped – no one paid her any attention.  Under her dismayed gaze, other wounds on his body that she had long thought healed broke open and started to bleed.  His arm, his legs . . . but she was the only one that noticed.  Both __Logan__ and Sands continued as if nothing was happening._

_   The bandages came off . . . ._

_   Tess screamed . . . . _

_   "What's wrong, niña?"  Sands was looking at her, and blood was quickly coating his face, but that wasn't the worst.  That hadn't made her scream.  What had made her scream was the fact that despite the blood, Sands had eyes, and they were her father's eyes, and they accused her and condemned her and promised retribution._

_   **What makes you think this is going to work?  Tess spun to find a mirror behind her.  ****You're a fool, Teresa Adame.  Tess covered her hands, but the voice rang in her head, overcoming any defenses she had in sleep.  ****You can't do this.  It will fail.  And who will take the blame for that?  **_**_Logan_****_?__  She and her reflection shook their heads.  _****No, he'll just take the data he gathers and fix what he can and write a paper.  The blame will lay on you, because without you, Sands wouldn't be here.**

Without me, he'd be dead,_ she whispered._

**_   He's dying now.  This failure will kill him inside, and he'll take you with him._**_  No, she wouldn't believe that.  She couldn't.  **Look for yourself, Teresa.  Look at your patient, at the man you saved.  Tess found she didn't have a choice; her body turned without her direction.  Logan was gone and Sands laid on the bed, blood still seeping from his body.  His eyes were closed.**_

No.

_   She rushed over to the bed, not quite able to bring herself to touch him.  There was so much blood.  Tess knew that there was nothing she was able to do.  With a tear running down her face, a clear imitation of the blood on his face, Tess took one of Sands' hands in hers.  _I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.  _Sands gave a gentle smile and the simplicity of the smile filled her with confusion.  Confusion that fled at his next words._

_   "Fuck you."  His eyes opened, and again they were the eyes of her father.  His hand imprisoned hers, not letting her run away.  Something brushed against her ribcage and she looked down.  It was a gun.  _

_   An explosion reached her ears as ice pierced her body.  The gun fell to the floor, Sands let her go.  The ice turned to fire.  Tess reached down and felt a warm fluid running out of her body.  Blood.  He'd shot her.  She looked back at him as her knees buckled.  "You ought to see your face . . . your sister had the same look right after I shot her."_

_   How had he known that?_

_   **See what happens when you don't listen to me, Teresa?  Although I suppose I shouldn't complain.  You're mine now.  Tess felt hands on her body, holding her down.  ****Mine.**_

_   Tess screamed._

After more than an hour of butting heads with Tessa's friend, Sands went outside for a smoke.  Not that he was conceding or admitting defeat.  No, he was simply taking the time to rethink his tactics.  The woman was extraordinarily stubborn; she didn't evade questions, but fired her own back before he could realize she hadn't answered.  It was rather frustrating.  

   He hadn't been outside long when he heard screams erupt from inside the house.  _Damn it.  He tossed his cigarette to the concrete patio and drew his guns, going back into the house.  Just underneath the screams he heard the woman's voice._

   "Tessa, wake up."  There were the sounds of a struggle near the couch.  "Tess, stop fighting me.  You need to wake up."  Sands put his guns away.  A nightmare.  Quickly, he crossed the couch and tipped the back, tumbling Tess off it.  There was a thud as she hit the floor and then everything went silent.

   Jessica looked up from the floor where her friend was catching her breath, then at Sands.  "Well, that worked.  I'm not it was entirely necessary, but it worked."  Sands resisted the urge to flip the woman off, and went back outside, lighting another cigarette and leaning against the house.

   Twenty minutes or more went by before he heard someone come outside with him.  He knew immediately that it was Tess.  The other woman, Jessica, would have started pestering him – it was the kind of person she was.  Tess knew better.

   After five minutes had gone by without Tess saying anything, Sands asked, "Is there something I can do for you, señorita?"

   "No."  He could hear that he'd surprised her.  "No.  I'm fine.  I just . . . I just needed to be in the sun for a bit.  I'm sorry if I disturbed you.  Do you want me to go?"

   Sand dropped his cigarette, listening for the sound of it hitting the concrete, then snuffed it out with his shoe.  Tess watched, tracking his movements in the same manner that she'd been doing so for weeks.  It was second habit by now.  And it was comforting to see him free of blood.  "Running from the terror in there?"  For a moment Tess was confused.  It wasn't like Sands to comment on nightmares or bad dreams.  He never even asked what happened during his.  Why would he be interested in hers?  "I'm talking about your friend."

   "Oh, Jessica.  What's wrong?  She didn't let you push her around?"  She waited for Sands to answer her, but no reply was offered.  Tess took this as an indication to let the subject slide.  However, he'd never told her to leave either, so she assumed she had his permission to invade his refuge for awhile.  With a sigh, Tess went and laid herself on the lawn, watching the clouds as she let the sun calm her nerves.

"I'm going to go for a walk.  You kids behave yourselves while I'm gone."  

   Tess rolled her eyes as Jessica left the house with a bounce in her step.  "I think you may be right about Jess becoming more like your mother every day."  Logan chuckled, but Tess knew there was something else on his mind.  "I knew it was a bad idea to leave the two of you alone together.  She told you about this afternoon, didn't she?"

   Logan sighed, but didn't deny it.  "Want to tell me what it was about?"

   "No.  It was just a bad dream generated by stress and my concern over the procedure, that's all.  I'll be fine."

   "Well, at least you have one less thing to worry about."  That was true.  Shortly before Logan had left the office that night, word had come that the donor eyes had arrived.  Since they'd arrived early, the surgery had been moved ahead to the next morning; something for which Tess was grateful.  The sooner this was all over, the sooner her life could settle back into something that resembled normal.

   It was getting late; near ten o'clock.  The children were in bed and Sands had followed their example after agreeing to move the date of the surgery up.  With Jessica out of the house, Tess and Logan were left sitting up at the kitchen table, and Tess was quickly loosing the ability to stay awake.  "Was there anything else you needed to talk to me about?"

   "Well . . . actually," Tess felt her heart sink as Logan stalled.  "Umm . . . yes.  Yes, there was."  She watched him get up from the table and go into the foyer.  The click of a briefcase opening reached her ears, and then he was back with a large manila envelope in his hands.  "Remember that time a few years ago when we all met up in Tijuana?"

   "Yes, although I'm surprised any of the rest of you do."  Logan, Jessica, and Inge had all come down to visit her, and they had all gotten very drunk.  Except for Tess, who wasn't allowed to have alcohol.  "What does that have to do with anything?"

   "Remember how we were talking, and you mentioned that you'd like to know who your mother was?"

   _Oh.  That._  Squashing the anxiety rising up in her, Tess said, "Well, I think I was talking more along the lines of wondering what kind of mother gives up her child."  The comment was meant to be offhanded, but it didn't come out that way.  Trying again, Tess tried to joke, "Don't tell me you tried to track her down."  The joke fell flat when Logan simply looked at the envelope he was holding.  "Logan . . . ."

   "Well, I didn't exactly find her, but the man I hired did find several documents.  A contract or two, a death certificate, and . . . and your birth certificate."  Logan handed the package over to Tess, regretting the numbed look that was taking over her face.  "I haven't opened anything."

   "Thank you for that much, at least," she whispered.  "This really wasn't necessary, Logues."  The package was heavy, and she played with the flap.  She didn't want to, but she knew she was going to open up the envelope and look at the contents anyway.

   "Do you want me to leave?"

   "Umm . . . no.  That's alright.  You've gone through a lot of trouble to do this.  There can't be anything too incriminating in here."  Tess took a deep breath and opened the envelope with trembling hands.  _I can do this.  I need to do this.  I need to know if . . . . She needed to know if her mother had ever been sent to the loony bin.  Needed to see her birth certificate._

   Logan watched as Tess dug through the large manila envelope, searching for something.  She pulled out a piece of paper, and as she read it, her pale face turned white.  The paper slipped from her hands and skimmed across the table to where he was sitting.  Picking it up, Logan found that it was Tessa's birth certificate.  _Teresa Adame . . . Barillo?_  That name had been in the news lately.  There had been an Armando Barillo killed in Culíacan last month.  It was reported that he was a major drug kingpin, and that he'd died while supporting a military coup. 

   "He lied.  He lied to me for thirty years."  All the times he'd told her that she hadn't had a last name because she was a bastard and bastards didn't have last names.  Every time she' blushed because she'd had to use her middle name as her last one.  Every time Ajedrez had delighted in taunting her over her lack of a family name.  _Señorita sin nombre, girl without a name.  "All these years I told myself it was a comfort to not be lumped together with the rest of my family . . . and now I find out it's all a lie.  I'm a Barillo.  I'm Teresa Adame . . . __Barillo, illegitimate but claimed daughter of Armando Barillo."  She let out a bitter and disbelieving laugh as numbness continued to take over her body.  _

   "T?"  Logan's voice broke through the fog surrounding her, causing it to break up enough for her to remember where she was, and who she was with, and what she was doing.  She looked at him.  "Are you alight?"

   The concern in his eyes helped to focus her mind even more.  As long as there was someone with her, she couldn't breakdown, and the urge to do so was quickly fading.  "No.  No, I'm not alright.  I'm stunned.  And in a bit I'm sure I'll be ashamed and furious and everything in between."  Tess looked up from the table.  "I . . . I'd like to go to bed."

   "Are you sure?"  _Are you sure that you don't want me to stay?_

   "Yes.  I just need time to absorb everything."  Tess rose from the table and walked to the front door, Logan following behind.  "I'm sure that I'll thank you for this one day, once I've had time to process everything.  That's going to have to wait a bit though.  We still have a few rough weeks ahead of us."  _That's right.  Concentrate on Sands, deal with one urgent event before moving on to the next.  Give things time to settle before stirring them back up.  "I'll see you tomorrow."_

   Sands went back into his room.

Tess didn't know how long she stayed standing in front of the closed front door before moving into the rest of the house.  It couldn't have been too long because Jessica hadn't come home yet.  Then again, in a neighborhood as safe as the one around here, her friend was likely to walk for another hour or so.

   Still trying to quiet her mind, Tess went into the living room and started picking up toys, putting away various cushions and coloring books, placing shoes along the wall where they wouldn't be tripped over.  She picked up all the trash and took it into the kitchen to throw away, and then she started wiping down already immaculate counters.  She cleaned as if the very act would clear the confusion from her mind.  On hands and knees she cleaned the floor.  Once that was spotless, she went into the laundry room and started folding laundry.  At half past eleven, Jessica came in.  Tess ignored her.  

   "I'm going to go outside for a bit.  You should get to bed."  Tess let Jessica leave without replying to her suggestion.  

**_   She's right.  You should get some sleep._**

_   Fine._  Tess dropped the shirt was trying to fold and left the laundry room.  She was too tired to argue with her voice _and her emotions at the same time._

   As she walked past Sands' room to get to her own, a hand reached out of the darkness and pulled her into the room, closing and locking the door behind her.  Her voice giggled.  **_What made you think it was safe to discuss matters of family when you have an eavesdropper in your house, Teresa?_**  Tess closed her eyes in defeat and waited for Sands to do . . . whatever it was he was going to do.

   For long moments, nothing happened.  No sound was made except the sound of two pairs of lungs breathing.  Tess opened her eyes.  As she stood silently and let her eyes adjust to the darkness inside the room, she saw moonlight glinting off the metal barrel of a gun.  She gasped; Sands knew he had Tessa's full attention.

   "Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you."  His voice was dangerously smooth; idly curious but the threat in it was more than obvious.  The part of her mind that wasn't numbed by an overdose of shock compared it to a silk scarf being wrapped around her throat.  Sure, it felt nice, but sooner or later it was going to strangle the breath from her lungs.

   Tess stared at the barrel of the gun, watched as the moonlight caressed its length.  It was strange; her life was in very real danger, and yet all of this seemed unreal.  Wetting her lips, she whispered, "You'll wake the children."

   Sands growled and closed the distance between them faster than she would have thought possible.  She found herself pressed against the wall, Sands' left hand a manacle around her upper arm, his gun resting below her ear.  Tess remembered the day she'd found him and taken him home with her – she'd let him rest his gun against her collarbone then, too.  "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you in the same way I killed your bitch of a sister," he demanded.  She heard a click as he cocked the gun.  "Your family fucked me over.  Tell me why I shouldn't take that out on you."

   Why was he asking for another reason?  She'd already given one.  He should have either accepted it and let her leave or discarded it and killed her.  What was he searching for?  Was he actually looking for a reason _not to kill her?  "I can't."_

   _"Damn you."  Sands threw the safety back on, then threw the gun towards the bed.  He didn't wait to hear if it would land or not.  Instead, he wrapped the hand that had been holding the gun around her neck.  Still she didn't fight.  The bitch stood as still as a statue, quivering under his touch, every muscle locked in place.  He tightened the pressure.  Still nothing.  "Fight."_

   She couldn't fight . . . not when she might hurt him.  Not when she understood why he placed the blame at her feet.  **_That and deep down you know it is__ your fault.  You're the last Barillo.  You know that now.  The unpaid debts of all the rest fell to your shoulders.  He's right.  _**

****_He **is** right.  "No."  The word escaped her mouth as a whisper._

   He hated the acceptance in her voice.  She wasn't supposed to be different.  She was supposed to be like _them.  _"Why not?"

   "You're right.  My . . . my father . . . my half-sister . . . they used you."  Her words said everything that had been lurking in the back of his head.  The master manipulator had been used.  The untouchable judge of character had made one fatal mistake.

   Tess stopped speaking as Sands' face came closer to hers.  His hand snapped up unexpectedly and cuffed the side of her head hard enough to make her ears ring.

   "Shut up."

   There was so much emotion behind the order.  Suddenly things began to click into place, and Tess was glad that he couldn't see her eyes.  "She was more to you than a corrupt agent, wasn't she?  Her betrayal hurt more than the rest.  What –"  Tess gasped as Sands' closed his hand tightly over her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

   "You really want to know?  Yes, I was fucking Ajedrez."  His voice was calmed and controlled, the raging emotion from earlier tamed.  For the first time, Tess started to fear where this might end.  "She was _very_ good in bed.  Almost as good as she was at lying."

   "Revenge . . . ."  Tess just barely managed to get the word out without gasping for breath.

   "Are you asking if that's why I killed her, or if that's what I want from you?"  The hand on her arm let go; his body pressed against hers as her knees started to go limp from a lack of air.  Tess wondered why her voice was being so quiet.  "What are you offering, _niña?"_

   The pressure lessened, enough for Tess to wheeze a few breaths of air into her lungs.  Was she offering something?  Did she have anything left to give him?  **_You have yourself.  _**"Whatever you need."

   Was she offering him a pity fuck?  "Are all the women in your family whores?" he asked quietly in her ear.

   Tessa's thoughts slipped back seven years.  She'd been home all of a month, but it was her wedding day.  She didn't want to marry, but her Father had decreed that she would, just so he could ensure himself of the loyalty of one man.  Were all the women whores?  Her mother had been a prostitute who'd been lucky enough to get pregnant by a man who'd pay her well for the child . . . or at least that's what she'd always been told.  Ajedrez slept with the men her father wished to ensnare.  Were they all whores?  "Yes."

   Sands shrugged.  The hand that wasn't pinning her by the neck came up and brushed against the skin of her collarbone; it was soft, silky under his hand.  He touched her cheek – she flinched but her body didn't move otherwise.  No protest – no reason to stop.  Slowly Sands moved his hand over Tessa's face.

   She had semi-prominent cheekbones, a long nose, and a high forehead.  He could feel her breath rushing over the inside of his wrist in uncertain huffs.  This was a really bad time to get interested in her body, and she was an even worse person to even consider taking to bed, but Sands didn't really give a damn about those things.  Maybe it was the drugs; maybe he was nuts.  "What color are your eyes?"  He didn't know why he needed to know – he just did.

   "They're blue."  _Like my father's.  But it's best that you didn't know that.  Tess bit her lip as hands started to roam over her body.  The memories from the last time she'd been in this position threatened to overwhelm her._

   "Do you like that?"  Sands doubted it, but he couldn't help tormenting her.  Her fucking family had played with him – he didn't mind having her under his thumb.  He'd gladly play the cat to her willing mouse.

   "No."

   "Then why don't you run?  Fight?  Scream?"

   "Because I'm used to this."  She gasped as his hand grew rough.  "And I don't want to hurt you."

   **_You really are a bastard, Sands.  After all she's done for you, you're going to rape her for her pains?_**

_   She's not arguing.  Why are you?_

_   **She thinks you're no better than her family.  You know enough from listening to her nightmares that she was nothing more than a slave.  An object.  You're treating her the way they did.  **_

_   She's never said anything like that._

   His conscience or whatever proved him wrong as Tessa's voice softly chimed in his memory: "_I was brought up among the ranks of henchmen to be a doctor . . . Ajedrez' personal medical slave if you will."  _

   They were both silent as a moment as Sands continued his punishing exploration.  Finally, his other side spoke up again.  **_She doesn't fight you because she never fought them.  Yeah, they may have fucked you over, but at least you chose to play the game and you had a chance to fight.  She's had neither – but she's cleaning up after them anyway._**

****_It's still her choice._

_   **Is it?  Touch her face.****  **_

   Sands hesitated, but eventually moved his hand back to her face.  His fingers found moistness on her cheeks.  Tears.  She'd cleaned blood off his face.  She'd shed tears over him.  Now she was silently crying because of him.  _Damn you.  Sands abruptly let go of Tess, and she fell to her knees on the carpet.  "Get out."_

***********************************************************

**Quotes:**  Quotes for this chapter come from **Byron, ****Saki, ****Roger **Price**, ****Kim ****Philby, and ****Robert **Frost****

**Author Thanks:**  so many thanks.  First to **Ashley**, my lovely beta, who gets stuff to me under incredible pressure so I can give in to you guys.  ; )  Girl, you are the best.  Next to **Merrie, who didn't 'review' per se, but who tells me what she thinks every night on IM, so I suppose you're excused this time.  ;)**

Now, thanks to: **TaraRose (hope this meets your expectations); ****The ****Flaming **Chia** **Pet** (it's so nice to know that I have your support.  ^_^  Although . . . perhaps you need to take a break if you're getting _this_ attached to it.  *grins and ducks what Chia throws at me*); **Pixy** (that was so great . . . I know exactly where I'm going to use that little gem you sent me.  It'll be someways down the road, but I'll get to it.); **Blank** (again, thanks for keeping me on the straight and narrow quote-wise.  ^_^); **Satisdee** (no, I didn't intend for anything to be 'hot' – I'm trying to save that for the next story.  Glad you liked it though.)**

And lastly, to all the new reviewers I got this chapter: **TheScarlettWeasel** (thank you so much for all the quotes); **Isola (ok, I seem to remember getting quotes from you, but I think I accidentally deleted the e-mail after pasting the quotes to my file for that, so I can't be sure.  But thanks for them if you did get some to me.  ^_^); **CaptainJackSparrowsGirl**; **Unimaganitve** ****Pseudonym (you are too good to me, really.  I love the quotes.); and ****Aleksandra (also, thank you for the quotes.  They were all really great.)**

**You guys really are the best reviewers.  At the rate you're sending in quotes for me, this story will be equally written by you guys.  ^_^**


	25. Disjointed

**Author's Note:  da-da-da!  An entire new chapter.  I am so pound of myself.  You should be proud of me too – this thing went through three or four revisions, seriously.  But now it is muy perfecto, if I do say so myself.  (Which I do.)**

**After this, though, I think there's only about another chapter in the story.  *covers ears from all the wails and protests*  But please calm down!  I have another story to tell with these two that will be coming out soon.  Trust me, you'll love it.  (At least I hope you will.)**

**Look for the next chapter in a week or so.**

**Author's thanks at end.**

*************************************************************

Tessa collapsed, the lack of air and a wash of disbelief making her knees weak.  She didn't understand what had just happened; she was sure that Sands had been on the brink of killing her, or . . . .  Her mind shied away from the thought.  For a moment she did nothing more than kneel at Sands' feet and catch her breath.  _He's letting me go?_

   **_He probably doesn't think you're worth doing anything with, even when everything is offered.  Story of your life, isn't it?  Just _barely_ valuable enough to serve a purpose, but not worthless enough to be killed outright._**

_   Thanks for the comfort.  Tess kept a cautious eye on Sands as she re-oxygenated her body.  He'd turned away from her and had lit a cigarette – he really was upset.  This was the first time she'd seen him light up inside the house.  The glow of the moon made the glow of his cigarette barely visible.  __But why is he lighting up instead of lighting into me?_

   ". . . T?  Where are you?"  Tess wondered how long Jess had been calling for her.

   "Better scamper away before they send in the hounds, _conejo._"  Rabbit.  Tess shivered as she noticed that Sands' voice was back to normal.

   **_Just follow the man's advice and get out of here._**

   Tess slowly rose to her feet, making as little noise as possible, afraid that any sudden movement would cause Sands to react in kind . . . and now that she was getting used to the idea of living, she wasn't so eager to anger Sands.  Self-preservation won out over madness after all.

   **_For now._**

_   Shut up._

  Sands heard the door to his room creak open slowly.  He was gratified to notice

 that this time she had enough sense not to retrieve the gun or try to offer comfort.  If she'd tried, he probably wouldn't have been able to keep from killing her – he'd killed men and women for less.  It's not like he had anything other than a drug-induced conscience holding him back.

   _Damn.  Damn her to hell.  __"You really didn't see it coming, did you?"  Give the woman a prize, he was a fucking idiot.  __God.  All the pieces had been there in front of his non-existent eyes, and he still hadn't managed to figure out that the most likely reason his voluntary doctor had been raised in the cartel was because her father was the fucking __kingpin.  He took an agitated drag from his cigarette.  Why hadn't he killed her?_

   **_Abashed the Devil stood and/felt how awful goodness is,/and saw Virtue in her shape/how lovely; saw, and pined his loss._**

_   Not you too._

_   **You know why you haven't bothered to kill her?  It's because you're drawn to her.  She's different than all the rest – from anyone you've ever met.  She helps because she can, not because she can get something out of it.  She goes into things knowing she'll be taken advantage of – expecting to be taken advantage of – but she still does all she can.  She's so ****pure,_ and that drives you nuts.  _**_

**_If it drives me nuts, why haven't I simply killed her?  It'd be an easy way to solve the puzzle._**

_   **You don't want to solve the puzzle.  You've never wanted to simply solve the puzzle.  To win the game by the conventional rules is easy.  It's rigging the game that's a challenge.  You're a manipulator at heart, Sheldon.  That's why you haven't killed her – you know there's got to be some way to get under all that ****purity,**__ some way to knock her off her pedestal.  To make her human.  That's __revenge worth having.  To wrap her around your little finger, and then show her what you turned her into._

    Sands gave the idea some consideration.

"T?"  When Jessica saw Tessa's face, she felt a small surge of alarm.  She was sure her friend was ready to pass out at any moment.  "What happened?"  Was something wrong with Sands?  "Is it your patient?  Is Sands alright?"  Tess nodded her head, but her color didn't improve.

   "I . . . I'm going to bed."  Tess tried to move pass her friend, but Jessica stopped her.

   "You know you can talk to me, any time during the day or night, right?"

   Tess nodded and tried to smile – the best she managed was a brief thinning of her lips.  She knew she should say something to make Jessica stop worrying, but couldn't imagine what those words should be.  _I just found out that something that had been a major source of shame and ridicule in my life was a malicious lie told to manipulate me?  That finding out the truth has not set me free, but has instead increased my debt? That I offered my body to a man who is physically and emotionally damaged because of that renewed sense of responsibility, and he started to take me up on it, but rejected me at the last minute?  That his rejection hurt?  That even while I'm glad to be out here without having been shot, throttled, or beaten, part of me wishes that he **had taken advantage of me so then I would have a reason to hate him as much as he undoubtedly hates me?**_

_   **Are you sure that's the only reason, Teresa?**_

   Tess covered her throat with her hand and silently went into the bedroom she was sharing with Jessica.  All she wanted was for this day to be over, the next past, and every memory of Mexico, and cartels, and guilt forgotten.  Including the memory of her patient.

The next morning was not a good one for Tess.  She'd risen almost before the sun, unable to find any refuge in sleep.  Sleep itself had been elusive – simply too much had happened in the past month for her to process.  Too many emotions had been raised, too many questions asked, too many answers revealed.  Especially after last night.

   It was almost as if she were existing on a different plane than she normally did – her motions felt jerky, her thoughts mechanical.  She knew that shock probably still had a good grip on her, yet she couldn't come to really care.  As long as she pondered how her senses were moving like a silent film from the '20s, her voice was willing to stay quiet.  _I wonder if this is what it would be like to live inside a strobe light._

   "Tía?  I can't find my shoes."

   "Your shoes are in the living room by the toy basket, Alma."  The girl scampered off.

   In her vision, everything was softened, all the sharp edges dulled.  Sound moved sluggishly, requiring her to focus on what was being said to her.  Her body seemed almost numb, and memories came dripping into her consciousness like semi-congealed wax.  There was so much that had happened the night before that she didn't understand.  Why had Sands searched for a reason not to kill her?  That wasn't his personality.  She _knew men like him – they usually killed without asking for a good reason why they shouldn't.  But he'd asked.  He'd been on the brink of strangling her, and his hands had been punishing after she'd implied that she wouldn't fight him if he choose to bed her, but when his hands had explored her face they'd been gentle.  His voice had been full of burning emotion when he'd asked what color her eyes were . . . and when he'd felt her tears, he'd let her go.  _But **why?  It doesn't make sense.**__

_   **Would you have preferred to have him beat you or put a bullet in your brain?**_

**_I would have preferred that his actions have some sort of constancy.  The part of her brain not involved in the internal debate mused that perhaps she was just surrounded by a wall of ice and not living in a strobe light.  Whatever was going on, it slowed down her reactions and movements.  Or at least it seemed that it did.  Perhaps some part of her mind was moving so quickly that it made everything else seem slow by comparison._**

   "Hey there."

   Tess turned around to find Jess standing behind her.  "Hey."  After this abbreviated greeting, Tess turned back to making lunches.

    Jessica eyed her friend.  She was well aware of how much sleep she'd gotten the night before and was concerned, and not just about the possibility of a mental breakdown.  Tess was wearing a short-sleeved turtleneck shirt and her hair was down.  Tess _never wore her hair down.  "T?  Is something wrong?  Did something happen last night between you and Sands?"_

   Tess paused as she was labeling lunch bags, but then resumed her work.  "No."  _Not **something.****  Tess wasn't sure what had happened, but it had been more than something.**_

   The other woman didn't believe Tess for a moment.  As Tess walked by, intent on finishing her packing, Jessica reached out and grabbed her arm.  Tessa flinched as if she expected to be hit.  As her head turned away, Jessica noticed that Tessa's hair swung across her face.  She was hiding something.  "Relax, T.  I just want to survey the damage."

   "It's nothing."

   "That's why you're being so evasive."  Jessica shook her head.  "Tess, 'nothing' doesn't usually require a person to hide the truth."  Tessa didn't do or say anything.  "Tess, I'm your friend.  Just show me."

   Tess still hesitated.  Jessica had a low tolerance for bullies or men who hit women.  She wouldn't agree that Sands had been provoked past his capability to remain non-violent, and she wouldn't be able to understand unless Tess explained all the dynamics of the situation – which she wasn't willing to do.

   **_Then, may I suggest you stop acting as if you have something to hide.  _**

   Jessica watched as Tess tucked her hair behind her ear.  She stared at the side of Tessa's face for a moment, then reached over to turn on another light.  She hadn't been mistaken – there was indeed a slight bruise covering Tessa's right temple.  "_He_ did this, didn't he?"

   "No."  _He didn't mean . . .  No, that was a lie.  He had meant to hurt her.  He'd meant to hurt her because her family had blinded him, taking away more than just his sight.  They'd left him vulnerable . . . broken . . . totally and completely isolated in a sighted world.  And he had every right to be angry, and while intellectually Tess knew he had no right to take that out on her, her feelings of guilt and responsibility still said that he had every right to do more than just hit her._

   Jessica was highly skeptical.  While Tess denied that Sands had anything to do with the bruise on her face, her denial had been quiet and not certain enough for Jessica to let things go quite yet.  "Then what happened?"

   "Logan gave me some news last night that I . . . I knew I shouldn't have looked at, but I did, and I found that I wasn't prepared to deal with all the, umm . . . all the ramifications."  Tess was _very happy that she'd taken the time to apply some makeup to the discoloration on her temple.  "I was shocked – you saw that last night.  And while I was cleaning, I umm, ran into a door jamb."_

   Jessica simply nodded.  What else could she do?  All she had was a feeling that Tess wasn't being completely truthful, but last night Logan _had said that Tess had received some disturbing news . . . so she couldn't disprove Tessa's explanation.  "Is there anything I can do to help?"_

   "Yeah.  You can go . . ." Tess gestured vaguely with her hand, ". . . you can go make sure that Sands is ready to go.  I've got to go drop the kids by their school, but then I'll be back to shuttle us all over to the hospital."

 "_Tía?"_

   Tess looked over at Marcos.  He was hesitating in the hallway as Tess signed Lena into her daycare program.  His face was serious.  _His face is too often serious.  I need to make his life sure enough that he doesn't have to worry all the time.****_

**_   Take that job Jessica told you about.  The teaching position at that community college._**

_   It's so far away though._

_   **I thought you wanted to get as far from ****_Mexico_****_ as you could.  _****_New York_****_ is pretty close to that._  **_

   Tess smiled at the daycare attendant as she finished signing her name, then turned to Marcos.  "You, sir, are going to be late for your class if you don't hurry along."

   "I don't want to go to class."

   "You're worried about _señor_ Sands?"  He nodded.  _Ah_.  Tess supposed she should have known that the boy would be too distracted by what was happening that day to sit still and listen to a teacher all day long.  "Ok, then here's what we're going to do.  You, are going to go to your classroom and pay attention for as long as you can.  I am going to go back to the house to get Sands and take him to the hospital.  Once he's settled in there, I will come back here, pick you up, and we will discuss what our next move it going to be, alright?"

   "Our next move?"

   "Yes.  I need to find a job, and there's one I can get with relative ease, but I want your opinion first.  If you like the idea, then we will go find a real estate agent that can show us some houses in New York via the internet.  How does that sound?"  The boy smiled and nodded.  Tess held out a hand.  "Let's shake on it," they did.  "Now, get to class before you're late."  The boy ran off and disappeared through a door halfway down the hall.

   As she left the building and walked back to her car, she asked, _I need to move on for their sakes, don't I?_

_   **Yes.**_

_   And it would probably be a good idea not to let Sands know where I'm going, wouldn't it?  She reached her car and opened the door, settling into the driver's seat._

_   **It'd certainly make it harder for him to track you down and kill you.**_

_   I don't think he wants to kill me.  He certainly had the opportunity last night, but he didn't take it.  The car started smoothly, but Tess didn't try to back out of her parking space quite yet.  _He does hate me, though.__

**_   Well, it's your fault for talking about family business in front of strangers – especially ones that might hold a grudge._**

_   And why didn't you advise me of that **before I looked in the envelope?**_

_   **That wouldn't have been any fun.  **_

_   Fun.  Right.  Tess rolled her eyes._

   **_You were also getting to close . . . too sympathetic.  You need to get away from him._**

**That wouldn't be hard now.  She'd heard the revulsion in Sands voice the night before when he'd told her to leave.  She remembered all the times she'd said that she'd taken enough from him and staying through his recovery would be taking too much.  That was still true.  She had to leave before he had his sight back.  She didn't want to see disgust in his eyes in the same way she'd heard it in his voice.  _So . . . __New York__?_**

_   **Yes.  Take the job.**_

**_Okay.  Tess put the car into gear, pulled out of her parking spot, and into LA's constant traffic._**

Once she was sure Tess had left, Jessica went to Sands' room, opening the door after a brief knock.  She looked around the room and found Sands by an open window, cigarette in hand.  "I'd ask you to rise and shine, but something tells me that the most I can expect from you is rise and scowl."  Sands flipped the woman off.  "Well that wasn't nice.  What if one of the children had seen that?"

   "The kids left with la niña."

   Jessica was surprised he knew that.  How had he known that Tess had taken the children to their school?  That had been decided between Tess and Tina over a cell phone while Tess had been upstairs dressing Selena.  There was no way he'd overheard that conversation.  "Still, you can never be too sure."

   Sands wondered if he'd been deaf as well when he could still see.  So many people only paid attention to what was seen that they neglected their other senses altogether.  "Was there a particular reason you came in to torture me?  Or are you just taking advantage of the fact that Tessa isn't here?"

   This was the opening she had wanted.  "Funny you should mention T," Jessica leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest.  "What happened between you two last night?"

   _La niña kept quiet.  If Sands looked closely enough at his thoughts, he found he wasn't too surprised by this news.  Tess wasn't the type of person to complain, and she certainly wasn't loose lipped.  __And when it comes down to it, what happens between Tess and I is none of this woman's business.  "Did something happen that I need to be aware of?"_

   The innocent tone in his voice was too practiced.  She knew a line when she was being fed one.  Jessica took a deep breath as her tempter slowly climbed.  "Look, Sands –"

   "I would, but unfortunately I can't at the moment."

   "Then keep your mouth shut and listen."  Sands felt pressure building up inside of him.  He'd been so good about not shooting anyone and this woman was pressing her luck.

   Jessica watched as tension overrode his body, and she softened her voice a bit.  From all accounts, this man was unpredictable and dangerous despite his lack of sight – she didn't want to cause anything to happen that might be regretted later.  "I saw Tessa's face this morning.  The bruise was hard to miss, although she did do her best to conceal it.  She didn't say that you had anything to do with it, but something tells me that you were the cause of it.  I know that you've been behaving . . . erratically, due to the meds you're on, and I know that Tess would never complain, but I want you to know that she's put herself through hell for you.  If you can't appreciate anything else about her, appreciate that, and the fact that she respects you enough not to ask someone else to look after you even though it was suggested.  God knows I probably wouldn't have isolated myself with a man who was abusing me – knowingly or unknowingly."

   Sands smiled.  _Respect.  Right.  He took one last drag on his cigarette and then flicked it out the open window.  Slowly, he walked over to where the woman's voice was coming from.  "What would you do if I __had 'knowingly' hurt her?"_

   Jessica narrowed her eyes.  "Death seems like an appropriate solution."  She raised her face as Sands came even closer.  "You can stop trying to intimidate me."

   "That's funny . . . I don't seems to remember trying to intimidate anyone."  Sands flashed a meaningless smile.  "I can't even see where you are."

   "Something tells me that's not –"  

   As soon as he had a reasonable idea of where the woman's head was, Sands lashed out with a fist.  His hand slammed into the wall right next to the woman's head, cutting her off.  He smirked then leaned in a bit – Tessa's friend was a few inches shorter than she was.  "Perhaps you need to take your own advice and keep your mouth shut.  It might _also_ be a good idea to keep your nose out of the business of others."  

   The front door opened and shut.  "Jess?  We need to get moving."  Sands moved away from the woman he had trapped, walking into the living room.  He heard Tess freeze when he came into view.  

   "Sands."  Tess felt unease at the self-satisfied grin on the man's face.  He'd been up to something or he was up to something, and the thought was not a comfortable one.  

   "_Chiquita."_

   "Umm . . . are you ready to go?  Or have you changed your mind?  It would be understandable if you had decided not to go through with this, especially if something had happened that would might make you feel as if you might not be able to trust . . . my judgment.  And being the first person to undergo a experimental procedure should be enough to make anyone second guess what they're doing, particularly –"

   "You're rambling uncontrollably, sweetie."  Well.  She was either terrified of him, extremely nervous that he might kill her at the drop of a hat, or she'd drunk way too much caffeine that morning.  "I think we should be on our way before you collapse into a pile of raw nerves."

   Tess exhaled and gave Sands a nervous smile. "Would you stay, knowing that life would be a bit worse?  Or would you cut and run?"

   "I don't see why you're nervous – you're not the one about to become Frankenstein's monster."

   Tess was confused.  Sands was acting as if nothing had happened last night.  Was it possible that he didn't remember?  That was almost too good to be true.  But still, she couldn't help but hope that it was.  That she was jumping the gun by deciding that she had to leave him without any notice at all.

_   There is a certain bleakness in finding hope where one expected certainty._

**_   At the moment I'd be more worried about finding he knows the truth when you should be hoping that he's forgotten it.  Don't let yourself be drawn in again, Teresa.  You're leaving before the choice is taken from you._******

   "Were you planning on making me stand here all day, or were we actually going to go to the hospital at some point?"  Sands wondered what was going through her head.  Was she relieved to be so close to getting rid of him?  Did she wonder if he'd forgotten their . . . conversation . . . the night before?  Did she think that perhaps everything would return to normal?  If she did, it'd be so much easier to manipulate her.

   "Sorry, yes.  The hospital."  Tess opened the door and waited for Sands to come to her side before going out.  She looked over his shoulder just before leaving the house.  "Jess?  Are you coming?"

   "Yeah.  I'll be right out."  The door shut and Jessica took a moment to look around Sands' room.  She hadn't moved from the doorway since Tess had come into the house.  There was something going on that she didn't like.  _I think I'll do my best to stick with Tess for most of the day.  Or at least until Sands goes under the knife.  I'm not sure he should be trusted._

Once they had reached the hospital, things moved along relatively quickly.  Tess, as Sands' listed physician, signed him in and got all his paperwork in order.  At his request they were still using 'Giovanni' as his first name.  Tess wondered what was so bad about his real name that he would so adamantly refuse to use it . . . or who he thought might be on their tail.  That was the only reason she could see for not wanting to leave a paper trail.  

   After he was checked in, they went upstairs to meet with Logan for a last minute debrief.  Sands was still set on doing this, so Logan took him into another room to change into a hospital gown, leaving Tess alone with Jessica.

   For several minutes they sat in silence, but finally Jessica had to ask, "T . . . why are you doing this?  Why have you put yourself through all this?  I know that Logan has offered to send over nurses to care for Sands so that you wouldn't have to deal with it.  Why didn't you take him up on his offer?"

   _Oh good, a question I can answer.  "It's my job, to be cleaning up this mess, and that's the enough reason to go for me.  It's my job, to be worried half to death, and that's the thing people respect in me.  It's my job, to better than the rest, and that's a rough break for me."_

   Jessica shook her head.  "I'm not sure that Jimmy Buffett is still the answer for everything, T."

   "Blaspheme."

   "Tessa . . . ."

   "I took him in, Jess.  I kept him from dying, I held his hand when the pain or the nightmares got too bad, I told him that . . . that I would see him this far.  And I have."

   "That's no reason not to accept help when you so obviously need it."

   "You're right."

   "Can you give me a reason?"

   _"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you."_

   "It's my fault."

   "Tess, _none_ of this is your fault.  Your voice is trying to pull a fast one over on you if that's what it's saying.  Did _you_ hurt that man?  Did _you drill his eyes out?  Did __you leave him to die?"_

   "No," Tess whispered, "but my family did."

   Now Jessica understood.  The great mystery had been solved.  Years ago, when the four friends had been preparing to leave school and start new lives, Jessica had pressed Tessa for an answer as to why she was going back to Mexico to work in a family practice when she could have any number of jobs in the US.  It'd been clear that Tessa hadn't been happy about returning to her family, and after an hour of arguing with her friend, Tess had given in.  "Did you have any part in it?"

   "No, but if I'd been there, maybe I could have done something more."

   "Could you have convinced your father to spare that man?"

   "No –"

   "Then how is it your fault?"

   "I'm the last one.  The rest are dead."

   "So you decided to take the punishment for what they did?"  Tess shrugged, staring at the floor.  "That's the schizophrenia talking, T.  You don't have to punish yourself for what others do.  No one in their right mind would hold you accountable for any of this.  No one is going to hunt you down and make you pay."

   _Sands isn't in his right mind.  Or if he is, he's one of a small population of people who would.  "You're probably right . . . but I know men like Sands.  By taking him in, I made a deal.  I would care for him and never let anyone know what he went through, and he would let me live.  And as time went by, I just felt that . . ."  How could she explain?  "He's a very private man, a man used to hiding thoughts, emotions, and pain alike.  But I . . . I put myself into a situation where he couldn't help but let all those things show.  It was my decision to take him, even knowing what kind of man he is, and I saw him at his most pitiful and his most vulnerable, and _I chose_ to keep those confidences.  I managed to get him to trust me in some small manner – enough that he was willing to let me treat him – and I couldn't betray that trust by leaving him to strangers."_

   **_You're going to leave him to strangers.  He doesn't know _****_Logan_****_.  Not like he knows you._**

_  Would you stop changing your position on everything?  First you want me to leave, and then you don't.  You want me to get away from him, you want me to stick close.  Make up your mind so I can make up mine._

_   **Do I make you nervous?  Don't you like having the truth of your actions pointed out to you?**  Tess didn't reply and the voice sighed.  ****__It doesn't really matter what he feels, because in a few weeks, you're never going to see him again.  _

   "T?  Can you come in here?"  Both women looked up as Logan called to them from the door of the prep room.  "_Your patient is being difficult and is refusing to allow the nurse to do his job.  He's still sticking to his story that you need the practice."_

   "Why is he only my patient when he's being difficult?"

   "Because you're the only one willing or able to deal with him.  Get your butt moving."

   "And he complains of me being a bossy crank," Jessica whispered to Tess.  

   Tess merely shook her head and stood up, crossing the hall into the prep room.  She nodded to the nurse – an older man with salt and pepper hair and a thick goatee – then took Sands' hand in hers.  She felt a shiver of fear as he gripped it tightly, but realized he was simply nervous.  That was understandable.  "I hear you're being 'difficult.'"

   "If you'd been in here a few minutes earlier, you could have heard Dr. Frankenstein calling me a 'pain in the ass.'"  

   Tess looked over at Logan and the man shrugged.  "Nonetheless, you're going to have to let this man do his job if we're to continue."  Sands growled and Tess almost laughed despite the knot of tension in her stomach.  "You know I'm right."

   "I know you're annoying."

   "That was weak."  He flipped her off.  "And that was a last resort.  Are you going to let," she looked at the man's nametag, "Steve do his job, or are you really going to make me take over?"

   "God, you're such a nag."  Sands didn't know what he was doing.  He was letting the woman off the hook when last night he'd been prepared to kill her.  

   **_Later . . . ._**

   "Fine."  Tess nodded at the nurse and the man came forward, IV prepared.  Tess didn't let go as the man slipped the IV into one of the big veins on the back of Sands' hand.  She didn't let go because he gave no sign of wanting her to, and she cursed them both for it.  She could almost _like him right now.  When he acted like this, she had a hard time decided which part of his dual personality _was_ the act.  Which front was the pretence?  Which was the real man?  Was it the one who talked to Marcos, and who urged her to sleep, and who came running with guns out when she had a nightmare – or was it the one who would insist that all that was done out of self-interest and personal gain?  Was the real man the one who wanted to kill her, or the one who let her go because she was crying?  Was it the man who annoyed the hell out of her, or the one who . . . held her hand?  The one who let no one in, or the one who trusted her not to take advantage of his weakness?  _

   Steve came back.  "Dr. Pierce is ready to move the patient to pre-op."

   "Yeah, well, maybe 'the patient' isn't ready to go."

   "Sands . . ."

   "Why are you whining?"  Tess stuck her tongue out at the man; Steve laughed.  Under his breath, Sands murmured uncomplimentary things in Spanish, but finally relented.  "Fine, let's go."

Sands didn't let go of Tessa's hand as he was wheeled out of the prep room.  He despised himself for the weakness, but still didn't release her.  The muscle relaxant he'd been given was doing a number on his head.  He could barely move and that brought back too many memories of the Day of the Dead.  The buzz of anxiety in the back of his head was trying to balloon into full-fledge panic . . . and whether he wanted to admit it or not, Tess was his link to reality.

   He swallowed and tried to keep his face clear of emotion as they entered an elevator.  Elevators were too closed in, too small and they moved.  Sands usually tried to avoid them at all costs – as he did with escalators – mainly because he didn't like the feeling of motion sickness that they gave him, but also because one of his private fears was being trapped in one.  There was no room to fight in an elevator.  

   Tess hadn't said anything when Sands had refused to let her go, just as she didn't say anything as his grip tightened on her hand.  She did look down, though.  _He's still wearing his glasses.  He really must have put the fear of god in those nurses.   When she saw the mask his face had become, she let her other thoughts go as her confusion deepened even further.  She wanted him to hate her so she'd feel better about leaving.  She wanted him to trust her even less than he could picture her face in his mind's eye.  She didn't want him to be able to hold her hand and find comfort in it . . . because she found no comfort in holding his.  All she found was guilt, responsibility, and an overwhelming sense of duty.  "Almost there."  His hand squeezed hers painfully – a warning to keep quiet.  _Perhaps he only wants reassurance as long as he can pretend that I'm not the one giving it. _ The doors to the elevator opened, they stepped out, and Tess was relieved and regretful as the hand clutching hers relented a bit.  She cursed as his dual nature coaxed dual reactions out of her._

**_   He's dangerous.  He's influencing you.  If you're not careful, you're going to have another voice to talk to._**  Tess shook her head, neither denying nor accepting the statement.

   They entered pre-op, and Tess leaned down to say to Sands, "This is the end of the road, señor."

   "You're leaving?"  His hand tightened on hers again, preventing her from pulling free.  She noticed, and placed her other hand over their joined ones.

   "I can't exactly go into the O.R. with you, and I have other charges to look after.  Besides, do you want me waiting around like an anxious wife for the next eight hours?"

   No.  He didn't want that . . . but he didn't want to be left alone either.  "I don't know – it'd be nice to have someone waiting to attend my every beck and call."

   _He would say that.  "You're going to be unconscious, señor."_

   Logan came up to the window that separated the operating room from the room they were in.  He tapped on the glass, signaling that they were ready for Sands to be brought in.  She shook her head and nodded at Sands – she wasn't going to leave him if he still had doubts or memories that were haunting him.  Logan looked at her, hung his head in mock exasperation, then pointed to her right.  She looked and found a surgical smock hanging above a bench where paper booties, mask, and a surgical cap waited.  She smiled, then said to Sands, "Give me a moment to suit up."  She turned too quickly to see the triumphant look on Sands face.

   Tess slipped the smock over her clothes, the cap over her hair after making sure it was all tucked in, the booties over her sneakers, and the mask over her face.  She looked around and found a box of gloves.  She took a pair and slipped them on, then returned to her patient, taking his hand.  For a moment he recoiled, not expecting to feel latex.  "Don't freak out on me, Sands."  She reached for his hand again, and this time he let her take it, although she saw the cords of his neck tense.  He didn't like the fact that he wanted to have some company as he went into the O.R.  Over her mask she looked at Steve, who was still with them.  "Let's go."

   Logan came over as they entered the room.  "I was beginning to think that Sands had killed you or something."  The joke fell flat; Tess squeezed Sands hand, warning him not to say anything.  "Well, let's get you into position, and then we can get the anesthesia started."

   Tess stayed by Sands' side as he was wheeled into position.  She talked to him as the anesthesiologist looked over Sands' chart.  Sands himself was slowly giving in to the muscle relaxant that he'd been given earlier.  She could see that he was physically less tense, though his grip on her hand was still firm enough to make her think that his mind was still anxious.  _Why can't you be like other men?  Why do you have to be so confusing?_

   Sands interrupted her thoughts.  "Any words of wisdom, niña?"  __

   Why did he have to be so civil?  The night before he'd had a gun at her head and a hand cutting the air off from her lungs.  And now he was almost vulnerable enough for her to apologize for everything.  She looked around and realized that everyone had stepped back to give them a bit of privacy.  She didn't want to need to have any privacy when she was around him.  

   "_Custida?"  Sands tightened his hand around the one he was holding instinctively._

   Tess cursed as she felt a single tear work its way free of her control; there was that hint of a lost boy in his voice again.  She couldn't leave him while he was unsure.  Crouching down, she whispered, "That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange eons even death may die."  She smiled sadly under her mask.  "Did that help?"

   "No."  He couldn't admit that the fact that she was still quoting things reassured him.  Not without his mind telling him that was unacceptable.  He still needed her to be a puppet – he couldn't start to see her as a person.  Not after what he'd learned.

   Tess watched as the anesthesiologist finished prepping the injection that would go into Sands' IV.  Quietly she started talking so Sands would know what to expect.  "The nice man is coming with some drugs that are going to put you under _very quickly.  Is there anything I can do for you before you take a very long nap?"_

   "Yeah, pick me up another carton of cigarettes."  He paused before letting his mind do what it wanted.  ". . .May I have a kiss before you go?"

   _If I'd known muscle relaxants would improve his temperament this much . . .  She didn't know why the relaxants were making Sands' tongue so loose, but she'd take it while she could.  Sooner or later all the drugs were going to be out of his system, he was going to hate her again, and she was planning on being far away by the time that happened.  She didn't know how much of the previous night that he remembered, but at this point any was probably too much._

   Carefully, she placed a kiss on Sands' forehead – the kiss of a sister or mother, diluted because of the surgical mask she was wearing.  It probably wasn't as close as he wanted, but it was much more intimate than she wanted.  She'd never planned on coming to care. "Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes,/Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose/On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud," she removed his sunglasses, "In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud/Or painful to his slumbers; easy, sweet,/And as a purling stream, thou son of Night,/Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain."  

   The anesthesiologist injected the drugs as Logan came over.  He looked at her, winked, then asked Sands, "Can you start counting backwards from one hundred for me?"

   Sands head rolled on the headrest, conveying impatience and distain.  He wasn't a child.  "100 . . . 99 . . . 98 . . . 97 . . ."  He'd his voice slowly trailed off.

   Tess knew that this was the sign that he was out.  She gently pulled her hand free of his, and removed his sunglasses.  For a moment she simply looked down into Sands' face as it was lit by the harsh lights of the surgical bay.  _Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain;/Into this prince gently, oh gently slide,/And kiss him into slumbers like a bride._

   "T?  We need to get started."

   She nodded and left the room.  Reaching the pre-op room, she stripped off her surgical gear, then took a moment to look in through the window.  Sands was barely visible as he was intubated and nurses crowded around his body.  _Va__ a con dios . . . go with God._

*************************************************************

**Quotes: **OUaTiM; John Milton from Paradise Lost; Love Actually; Ursula Le Guin; Jimmy Buffett; H.P. Lovecraft; Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas; John Fletcher.

**Author's Thanks: **first and foremost, to my dedicated beta, Ashley, who still gets chapters to me even when the power has been out because of ice storms and her computer is laid up with major virus overloads.  That, my friends, is interagency cooperation.  ^_^

Nextly, thanks to **Merrie (gotta love characters that won't let SJ bully them.  ^_^); **TaraRose** (I got this out several days sooner than I thought I would.); gee (thanks for the encouragement); **The** ****Flaming ****Chia ****Pet (I'm now scared that you'd have an apoplexy if I ever let more than a week pass without an update.  ^_^  And wasn't the ending of the last chapter great?  I know I loved it.  Gave myself shivers, I did.); **Isola** (I hope I haven't disappointed you, and I really hope the next story lives up to this one.); **Adrejon** (ooh . . . another addict.  I'm not sure how many that makes now.  I'm almost ashamed of myself.  As for where I'm leading those two?  Well . . . through a bunch of rough times as far as I can tell.  But you gotta admit that it's fun to read about.  And I'm afraid that I really do enjoy my cliffhangers.  Resolution is for the end of a story.); **CaptainJackSparrowsGirl** (mmm . . . heartbreaking.  Seems like I've exceeded my expectations.  ^_^); ****Kim (I'm glad you're back, and thank you so much for the really long quote.  I think that I can fit bits and pieces in here and there.  ^_^); ****Blank (ooh!  No fair!  I hope Friday hurries up and gets here for your sake.  You're not the only one that likes Jess – personally, I had some fun with her this chapter.  And the way Sands reacted?  *swoons*  I wrote that bit something like over a month ago and I've been dying to get to it.  I absolutely love it.  Glad you liked it too.); and **Satisdee** (why did he get that upset?  Mainly because I wanted him to, but we can blame it on the drugs.  ^_^  Another reason is that in a lot of the Sands/OC stories I've read, the fact that they are in some way connected to the cartel never bothered him, and I wanted something different.  Someone _used by the cartel would be one thing, the daughter of the man who scrambled his eyes is another.  5 or 6 page chapters?  I did that once?  That seems like forever ago.  Don't think they'd be returning too soon.  I agree that the ending you suggested would be very romantic, but I'm not ready to stray into that territory yet.  I'm not at all sure I could write it convincingly.)_**

And lastly, thanks to my new reviewers.  **C.J. Davis** (thank you so much for the compliments.  If I'm getting Sands and Tess to annoy the heck out of people occasionally, then I know I've got the dynamics right.  The moment people say 'oh, what a sweet couple' is the moment I stop writing.  ^_^) and **Digital Diamond** (I know I said something like this at one point in time, but you're my hero.  Really.  ^_^  Hope you read this when you get to this chapter.)


	26. End Game

**Author's Note – at the end because this is the last chapter.**

*****************************************************************

**In ****Washington****, ****D.C.******

   "Hello?"

   "I did it."

   "Excuse me?"

   "I did it.  The procedure was a success."

   "Logan?"

   "Do you know anyone _else_ that started human trials on experimental surgery lately?"

   Ingrid Rochester rolled her eyes behind her designer glasses.  "Well, now that you mention it . . ."  She sighed and took a break from transcribing some recent lab notes.  "Didn't you perform that surgery nearly two months ago?"

   "Yeah, but I wanted results before I called you.  You're a snob when it comes to that sort of thing."

   "Ha-ha.  So, how's the patient, besides being crazy enough to submit to _your_ care?"

   The two college friends talked for some time.  Inge let her mind drift through most of the conversation, not bothering to listen that closely since she knew a copy of his notes and observations would be in her hands sooner or later.  How soon all depended on whether or not she decided to fly out to LA.  A break would be nice, but she was so close to getting funding for a retrovirus project that she'd hate to leave, even for a week.  One only advanced in the CIA if one was brilliant or a workaholic.  She grinned in pride; luckily she was the fir– "What did you just say?"

   Logan chuckled.  "I know it's hard to believe, but I think that Sands actually deserves part of the credit.  After all, without him, I wouldn't have had someone to operate on."

   Inge couldn't believe her ears.  "You said 'Sands'?"

   "Yes.  Perhaps you should go see if you have any waxy build-up in your ears."

   She ignored this.  "What's this guy's first name?"

   "I can't tell you that actually, and not because of doctor/patient confidentiality.  He's never told me what his first name is."

   "What's on his chart?"

   "'Giovanni,' but Tess said that was a pseudonym."

   Inge had forgotten that her old roommate had found this man.  _If I'm right . . . _"And she found him in Mexico?"

   "Mmm-hmm."  He sounded distracted, as if he were looking over some test results.

   "Do you know where in Mexico?"

   "Umm . . . yes, but I can't think of the name.  It was the site of that failed coup in November."

   It was him.  "Culíacan?"

   "Yeah."  Ah, she had his attention now.  "How'd you know that?"

   "Never mind.  Is now a good time for me to come out for a visit?"

   "You might have trouble getting here by the time the office closes."

   Inge paused her racing mind to shake her head at her childhood friend.  "You've never really grown up, have you Logues?"

   "Nope.  I thought it'd be nice if there was one of us who didn't lose their sense of humor."  The receiver was muffled and she heard him giving directions to someone.  "Sorry for the interruption.  But all kidding aside, now's as good a time as any for you to come out.  We're definitely a bit warmer than DC at the moment, and I know how much you hate the cold."

   Ingrid smiled.  "Ok then.  I'll call you back when I know my ETA, but I should be out by the end of the week."

   "Sounds good.  Talk to you later?"

   "Absolutely."  

   As soon as her friend hung up, Ingrid left her office and hurriedly got to the wing of the Pentagon that housed the CIA bigwigs.  Looking at the nameplates on the doors as she passed them, she quickly found the one she wanted.  She opened the door and asked the secretary, "Is he in?"

   "Yes, but I'm afraid that Director Colton is in a meeting."

   "I think he'd want to be interrupted.  I have important news."

   "Under normal circumstances that might be alright, but he's meeting with Senator Sands and his wife."

   This was her day – truly, it was.  "It's about our agent that went MIA in Mexico three months ago."  

   The secretary's eyes widened.  After a moment of simply staring at Inge, the woman got up and opened the door to the office.  "Director Colton, Dr. Rochester is here to see you."

   William Colton was glad for the interruption.  Senator Sands, while an important man, was full of hot air at times.  He lacked his son's air of contained energy.  With the younger it was always a surprise to see him sit still when you knew he was completely able of wreaking serious havoc; the older man simply blustered.  "Dr. Rochester, this is highly unusual.  I trust you have a good explanation for your intrusion?"

   She nodded, a confident and self-satisfied look in her eye.  "I found him."

**In ****Los Angeles******

   A confident, blond haired woman walked into the lobby of the medical plaza.  She looked around, then approached the receptionist.  "I'm looking for Logan Pierce, can you tell me where his office is?"

   The receptionist looked the woman over, noting the expensive suit, leather briefcase, and well hidden look of superiority in her eye; she knew another doctor when she saw one.  "Dr. Pierce's offices are on the third floor."  Inge nodded her head in thanks and headed for a bank of elevators, her expensive leather heels clicking against the marble floors.  _Well, __Logan__ certainly found himself a cozy position._

   She rode the elevator in silence, her thoughts awhirl.  She and Sands had had a brief but intense fling in the months before he'd been sent to Mexico.  To put things nicely, the break-up had been neither pretty nor her idea.  _Actually, it was all his father's fault.  The Senator had unexpectedly shown up at Sands' apartment as they'd been preparing to go out one night, and he'd mentioned how good they looked together and how glad he was that Sheldon had given up on his 'bimbos'.  Privately, Inge had agreed.  Sheldon was the type of man she was looking for – successful, intelligent, privileged, and sexy as hell.  But Sands hadn't taken his father's comments well.  He broke up with her the next day.  _And three years go by without hearing one word from him, then he practically falls into my lap.  I wonder if it's supposed to be some kind of sign.__

   The doors opened and she walked to the door marked with Logan's name, rapping on it with her knuckles.  "Come in."

   A half an hour later, after greeting her old friend and getting the required chit-chat out of the way, Inge murmured, "Remarkable," as she looked over Sands' charts.  "I can't believe he's shown this much improvement in just two months.  And you say that nearly all the nerves and tendons were still intact when he got to you?"

   "Mmm-hmm.  Tess did a wonderful job with him while he was on the medication."

   "I'm sure."  _Why am I not surprised?_  It stung that Tess had been the one to find Sands.  "Speaking of Tess, is she going to make an appearance?  It's been years since I've seen her."

   Logan made an uncomfortable sound.  "I'm afraid she left.  She took a job in New York and left last month to set up house."

   Inge looked up for a moment in surprise.  _Tess-the-perfect actually abandoned a patient before they were 100% healthy?  This is too good.  "That's too bad, I was looking forward to spending some time with my old roommate.  I suppose it couldn't be helped though – I know she'd _never_ leave a patient before she was confident that they no longer needed her."  Logan looked even more uncomfortable.  Satisfied, Inge let the subject drop._

   "You know . . ."  Inge looked at Logan as he addressed her several minutes later; he had a mischievous grin on his face.  "Sands is scheduled for a check-up today.  I don't suppose you'd be interested in sitting in on my examination?  As a colleague, of course."

   "Of course."  They both knew he wanted to rub her nose in his success.  After all the times she said he'd been daydreaming, she was willing to admit that she might deserve it.  "I'd be delighted."

Sands had never before considered that sight could be as disorienting as blindness . . . but it was.  Now that he was starting to see again, he almost wished that he hadn't gone through with things.  Almost.  Once he progressed past the headache inducing undistinguishable blur of light and color stage, he'd be glad to see again.  But for the moment it was a pain in the kiester. 

   "Yo, Sands, let's go man."  For the thousandth time in the past week alone, Sands cursed Tess for leaving.  For who her family was.  For leaving him to the care of 'Carl,' his perpetually cheerful nurse.  If Sands was honest with himself, he hated Tess for more than just that – he hated her for leaving _him_.  He tried very hard not to be honest.  "Let's hit the road my chromatically challenged friend."

   Despite knowing it was going to hurt, Sands rolled his eyes.  By now he was certain the man had been picked as an extra motivator for him to get better, because Sands was either going to be self-sufficient soon, or he was going to shoot Carl in the head.  Sands left his room and walked into the foyer, a pair of sunglasses over his eyes and his clothes as miss-matched as he could make them.  "You are a pain in the ass, Carl."

   "Good-morning to you too, sunshine."  Carl opened the door and they left the house.  The house that had been extremely quiet for weeks on end.  _Good.  It was too loud before._

   "Watch your head."  As Sands climbed into the front seat of the car, he casually flipped the man off.  "No thanks.  I've got a fiancée waiting for this job to end."  

   Sand gave up.  He really did.  _Nothing phases this man.  Nothing gets to him.  **Nothing.  A month he's been hanging around and I haven't seen one display of temper from the man.**_

_   **And he doesn't throw back quotes either.**_

_   That's the one thing I'm glad about.  Little-miss-literature was getting annoying._

_   **You miss it.**_  The voice was smirking.  **_It's your own fault she's gone.  Or don't you remember?_**

***   *   *   *   ***

Tess was nervous.  She didn't like being nervous.  Nervousness gave her too much time to think about her actions and thoughts.  Especially when it came to this man.

   **_Just go in and see him._**

_   And if he doesn't want to see me?_

_   **That's fine.  He can't see yet.**_

Tess rolled her eyes.  For the past week, she'd been keeping up on Sands' condition through phone calls and conferences.  She'd never actually gone in to see him, although Marcos had on several occasions.  But this morning things had changed.  This morning Logan had called her and said that the nurses had said that Sands had been asking for her.  So here she was.  _We didn't exactly part on the best of terms._

**_   What are you talking about?  He asked you to kiss him.  I think he might be sweet on you._**__

_   We both know I was talking about what happened the night before his surgery.  The whole 'Barillo revelation' thing?_

**_   Sorry.  I forgot.  You've been trying so hard not to think about it that I didn't want to bring it up._**

   Tess didn't believe that for a moment.  Instead of arguing though, she went to the door of Sands' room.  There was a window in the door and she looked through it, watching Sands.  She couldn't even tell if he was awake or not.

   "Can I help you, doctor?"  Tess turned to see Merrie at her elbow.  The nurse had been persistent in her care of Sands.

   "Umm . . . I don't want to disturb him if he's asleep."

   "Do you want me to go in and make sure the coast is clear?"

   "Sure."  Tess watched as the younger woman walked into the room.  Immediately she knew that Sands was awake; he remained in his reclined position, but his entire body tensed.  Merrie didn't say anything as she adjusted his IV drip and made a note in Sands' chart, but Tess knew he recognized who was in the room by the way he relaxed.  For the first time she wondered if she'd done the right thing by staying away.  Perhaps if she'd even dropped by every now and then, he'd find it easier to relax.

   **_Yeah, and if you thought he was charming before, you'd love him now._  The voice was incredibly sarcastic.**

_   I can handle a bit of verbal abuse.  Aren't a few harsh words worth his peace of mind?_

**_   Well, you can either stop being yellow and go inside and find out for yourself, or you could keep looking for reassurance from me._**  

   That was a good point.  As Merrie came back out of the room with a wink and an assurance that all was clear, Tess walked into the lion's den.

Sands lay quietly in his bed as the nurse left.  Impatience and boredom had become second nature by now, even though time was still inconsistent where he was concerned.  More often than not he'd find his consciousness drifting in a drug induced haze until someone came into the room.  He'd then have a few minutes of coherent thought until they left, and then he'd fall back into the well of thoughts that seemed to bubble with new information every time he looked into it.  Of course, he had probably just forgotten most of it from the last time he could remember remembering anything.

   Most of his recurring or new thoughts centered around the woman who'd been at his side night and day for all but the past week.  He wavered between relief that she was absent and anger that she was gone.  He had no desire to really talk to the woman now that he knew about her . . . family connections, but a small piece of him resented not having her at his beck and call.  The least she could do after everything else that had happened was sit around and distract him until he was capable of doing so himself.

   The door shut.  Sands waited for the echoes to die before turning his mind and his ears to other things.  Silence.  He moved his head, detecting something.  _No.  Only near silence.  There's someone in the room.  He could hear someone breathing over by the door.  He waited for them to speak or to move . . . nothing.  _Well, this is interesting._  Certainly more interesting that anything else that had happened recently._

   Sand didn't address whoever it was who was doing their best to imitate a potted plant.  Sooner or later their patience would wear out because he had nothing better to do than wait for them to give themselves away.

   _-Tap, tap, tap.  Ta-tap, tap, tap-  Sands stopped listening as he realized who it was, instead rolling his head towards the window.  He could feel the sun on his face, and even if he couldn't see it yet, he was willing to take what he could get.  "I don't suppose you brought my cigarettes," he drawled._

   "No."  Her voice was quiet, but it carried across the smallish room.

   "Then why are you here?"

   "If I knew, I would speak.  I know little.  I guess much."  He heard her walk partway across the room, although she didn't exactly come closer to the bed.  "They told me that you wanted to talk to me."

   "Where would anyone get that idea?  Can you think of a reason I'd like to talk to you?"

   Tess had a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach.  Something wasn't right.  His voice was too . . . impersonal?  Uninterested?  Forged?  Tess couldn't decide what was making her nervous, so settled on tentatively speaking her mind.  "His mind, of man a secret makes,/I meet him with a start,/He carries a circumference/In which I have no part,/Or even if I deem I do –/He otherwise may know./Impregnable to inquest,/However neighborly."  To keep her hands from tapping, Tess hid them behind her back where they started wringing.  "How would I know what you're thinking unless you tell me?"

   This irritated Sands to no end.  The woman was such a coward.  For _once it'd be nice if she'd speak her mind instead of hiding behind quotes.  "It'd be too much to ask of you, wouldn't it?"_

   "What?"  Tess didn't understand.

   "It'd be too much to ask you to stop being a coward."  He could hear her stunned silence.  "I suppose some traits breed true no matter how diluted the blood."

   "Señor?"  He almost laughed when he heard the whisper of hurt in her voice.  What right did she have to be hurt?

   "At least when your father and sister manipulated people, they did it very openly.  When they used you, you knew it.  You can't even do that.  You get people to do what you want and they never know.  What did you get from this?  What was in it for you?"

   "I didn't do this for me."

   "Maybe you find comfort in telling yourself that, but we both know it's not true."

   His words _hurt.  They came dangerously close to the truth.  "Why are you –"_

   "Tell me, Teresa.  Tell me.  Did you take me in out of the goodness of your heart, or was there another reason?  There was something else motivating you, wasn't there?"

   "No . . ."

   "You're a liar, Teresa.  Do you get a charge out of making people dependent on you?"

   "No.  I –"

   "You what?  You're pathetic?  You're useless?  Ineffective?  Worthless?"

   _"You're weak, Teresa.  Your compassion will ruin you.  I try to make you strong and this is the thanks I get?"  What had she been thinking to come here?  "I felt responsible.  I spent my life being responsible for the actions of my family.  Whatever they did had me at the root.  So it was my fault that they left you to die, and I . . . I accepted that.  Everything I did was to make up for that.  I only wanted to give back what they took."_

   Her voice was quiet, but dug into him with fiery claws.  He'd thought that venting his anger would make him feel better because Tess had taken everything else he'd thrown at her with a calm eye . . . _I suppose it's nice to know the woman has nerves to hit after all.  That didn't explain why he didn't feel better.  "Get out of here, Barillo."_

   The name was the equivalent of a slap in the face.  For a moment Tess could do nothing but stand frozen in her place, but then she nodded.  She understood.  She couldn't blame him for feeling the same way she did.  "I see why you say that only men do evil, I think.  Even sharks are innocent; they kill because they must."  

   He didn't know who she was referring to: her family or his cruelty.  Yes, he was aware that he'd been cruel, but at the moment he really didn't care.  Why should he?

   When Sands didn't reply, didn't even acknowledge her, Tess knew that was it.  Quietly, she made her way to the door and let herself out of his room.  _I will not cry.  I knew what I was doing when I went into there.  I knew how he would feel as soon as I realized he knew my last name.  Still, it was hard._

   "T?  Are you alright?"

   Tess spun to find Logan behind her.  She nodded.  "Umm . . . I've taken a job in New York.  I plan on being gone by the first of January.  We're going to need to find someone to take care of Sands."  She left before the stunned look could leave Logan's face.  She didn't want to talk.  About anything.  She wanted to go tend her wounds in private.

   Logan stared after her for a moment before going into Sands' room.  "Well, whatever you were attempting, it worked."

*   *   *   *   *

"Hey, Sands.  We're here man.  Let's go."  Sands woke from his reminiscences and opened his car door.  _Good riddance.  There was no reply.  Why should there be when he didn't even start to believe he meant it?_

"Well, everything certainly seems to be progressing nicely."  Logan made a note in his chart as Sands finished walking through an obstacle course; the obstacles were large and brightly colored so they were hard to miss.  This time through, Sands had managed to navigate the course without brushing against a single object.  "Just one more exercise and we'll be done for the day."  Sands nodded to hide a surge of relief – his head was starting to pound unpleasantly, which was different from the moderate pounding he felt most of the time.

   Logan hid his own sigh, although his was of frustration.  Since Tess had left, Sands had become withdrawn.  Not that the man had ever been congenial, but there had been times when his presence had been almost bearable.  Now the only times he spoke anymore were to say something caustic.  _Although, he's incredibly determined to regain his sight as fast as he can.  Perhaps I'm just reading too far into things.  "Come over here and have a seat."  Sand did.  "We're going to combine two exercises into one, actually.  We're going to turn up the lights – just a very small amount – and then we're going to test your eyesight a bit."_

   "I thought we were already doing that, doc."

   "This more like a classic eye exam.  I have some pieces of poster board that have been cut in half.  On them, letters, or numbers, or shapes have been printed in red, since that's the light frequency best seen by the human eye.  We're going to test how close things are before you can focus on them and how far away they can be before you can't recognize them."

   They did this long enough that Sands' headache became literally blinding.  He couldn't focus his eyes at all, anymore.  Logan noticed this when his patient stopped cooperating altogether.  "I guess that's enough for today, then."

   Sands barely bit back the obscene comment he was going to make in reply to that.  Instead, he rolled his head back on his neck and blindly stared at the ceiling, letting everything go completely out of focus.  The light still hurt, but not as badly as it had when the bandages had first been taken off.  Then the pain had been so bad that he'd had to bite back a moan, even though no more light had been in the room than the light cast by a small candle.  The room he was in now was lit by dim sunlight.  Natural sunlight.  The shades on the windows were controlled by computer to simulate different strengths of sunlight – at the moment they were a step above dusk.

   The door opened and Sands listened as a pair of heels came into the room.  There was something vaguely familiar about the person's gate, but it wasn't recognizable enough for Sands to know who it was – which meant it wasn't anyone he'd met since the Day of the Dead.  He recognized all those footsteps.  And there was no hesitation to make him think that perhaps his memory wasn't as good as he thought it was.  His interest roused enough to make him ask, "Who's your friend, doc?"

   "A colleague of mine.  We went to med school together – heck, we grew up together – and she's actually a friend of Tessa's as well."

   _I won't hold it against her.  "While the background information is appreciated, a name would be appreciated even more."_

   "Oh, sorry.  This is Dr. Rochester."  Sands remembered where he recognized those footsteps from and he held back the desire to laugh.  This was unbelievable.  "Known to her underlings as Ingrid Rochester."

   Inge shot a look at Logan, but he shrugged.  She shook her head and addressed Sands.  "Hello Sheldon."

Logan had left his patient and his friend alone some time before.  The moment Inge and greeted Sands he'd felt awkward and in the way, so he'd excused himself.  Now the two were engaged in a standoff of sorts.

   "You're looking well," Sands addressed the dark, human-shaped blur at the other end of the room.  I see you're still bleaching your hair."

   "I see you're still a jackass."

   Sands chuckled.  "Sorry, rubia, but things don't change that much."  He was glad to see that she was still upset with him over their sudden breakup.  "Don't tell me you're still holding a grudge after more than three years."

   "No, no grudge.  I simply don't like you."  Inge was irritated.  Nothing changed this man.  Not even having his eyes scrambled in his sockets.  "They sent me down to evaluate whether you should be taken back to DC immediately or left here to finish recuperating."

   "Ah, eager to get me back now that I've risen from the dead?"

   "They're not viewing it as anything that spectacular.  Just another agent emerging from the ranks of those gone MIA.  I don't think director Colton is going to be happy to learn that you've been in the States for over two months without sending some sort of notification that you're alive.  Your parents have been riding the poor man rather hard to get some news of you."  Sands grimaced.  "Before I left, the Senator was pressing for marines to go in and search you out, despite the fact that the trail would have gone cold by now."

   There was an uncomfortable silence between the two.  Sands, of course, reveled in it, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one.  Inge stood across the room, feeling irritation buzzing under her skin.  Sands smiled . . . it was good to be in control.

**In ****Fairmont****, ****New York******

   Tess took a break from arranging the latest batch of new furniture to arrive at her house.  For the first few weeks after coming to New York, she and the children had lived in a three bedroom apartment while she tried to find a house.  It'd been a struggle just to decide how much she could afford to spend, and she'd spent one entire afternoon on the phone with her attorney trying to figure out how much money she had available to her.  The final figure had been considerably higher than she'd thought – it turned out that Barillo had never changed his will . . . the will that listed her as the primary beneficiary if Ajedrez was also dead.  The news that she had nearly a hundred million dollars in off-shore accounts had kept her sitting in shock for another afternoon.  Not that she had access to that much money – half of that was in accounts that were monitored by the cartel and she couldn't take money out of them without alerting 'the family.'  But the rest of it was in her personal accounts, which she _did_ have access to.  The next morning she'd started looking for a house that she could feel comfortable in.

   It'd taken a month, but she'd eventually found the house she and the children were now living in.  She, the children, and Cora Mendez.  Cora was the daughter of Tina, Logan's personal assistant.  Cora was also a registered nurse who specialized in home care for the . . . mentally impaired, or at least that's what she wanted to specialize in.  No one had taken her on yet because of her young age.  At twenty-two, she was nearly a decade younger than Tess, but Tess had looked over her qualifications and recommendations and had decided that the woman was just what she needed.  Cora had needed a job and Tess had needed someone to help her look after the children and be on hand should . . . should the balance ever tip.

   Now, five months later, Tess was ready to admit that the woman was a lifesaver.  The children adored her, she had a nearly bottomless well of energy, and she wasn't daunted by Tessa's confession of being a schizophrenic.

   **_She's obviously not a very bright woman.  _Tess ignored that comment, instead surveying what she was coming to think of as her home.  **

   The house was large, but it had a distinctly Spanish flavor to it that she found comforting: red-tile floors, stucco walls, exposed beams.  Her favorite feature were the humongous floor to ceiling windows in the living room.  There was a large kitchen that Tess was sure she'd never come close to using completely.  She could cook, but most of what she _did make was very simple.  The rest of the downstairs was taken up by a family room, a bathroom, a guest room, a small study, and a laundry room.  The second floor held six bedrooms and two bathrooms.  The third was a converted attic.  Tess was pleased with herself for finding this house.  The only problem was filling it.  After so many years of living on the go, she didn't have that many possessions.  However, with four kids and an eager assistant, she was quickly solving that problem.**__**_

****The clock stuck nine.  Tess surveyed the downstairs and sighed.  She really didn't have the energy to keep going tonight.  She headed towards the stairs, pausing for a moment when she saw her cell phone sitting on a nearby table.

   **_You know you want to call and see how he's doing._**

_   I don't know what you're talking about.  __Logan__ keeps me more than updated._

**_   It's not the same.  You're still feeling guilty__.  I swear to god that I am going to give up on you.  _**

_   I wish you would._

   The voice ignored her.  **_Nothing makes you happy.  You took him in because you felt guilty, you brought him back to the US because you felt guilty, you were ready to let him kill you because you felt guilty, you left because you felt guilty . . . and now you're feeling guilty for something you did out of guilt._**

_   Thank you for that synopsis._**  Tess went up the stairs, ignoring the urge to call and check in on Sands.  She was well aware that she had the annoying tendency to let the man occupy her thoughts even though he was no longer even in the same town as her.  _If something important happens, either __Logan__ will call me, or Sands will . . . not that he ever would.  So, baring the chance that Logan would call to update her, Sands was none of her business anymore._**

   That didn't stop her mind.

   Tess got to her bedroom and went into the bathroom.  She ran herself a bath and climbed in, turning on the radio.  Quickly, she scanned the stations: country, talk, gospel, heavy metal, classic rock . . . she paused on that station.  For some reason she wondered if this was the type of music Sands listened to.  It seemed like something he'd like.

   Tess realized what she was doing.  Fed up with herself, she turned the radio off entirely and climbed out of the bath.  Settled in flannel pajamas, she went to bed, leaving a single lamp on to chase away the darkness.

   _If only it were so easy to drive **him out of my head.**_

   Downstairs, her cell phone started to ring, but she didn't hear it.

**Los Angeles****, five months later**

   Sands shoved his glasses back up on his nose as he finished packing his bags.  Pierce had either finally gotten fed up with him, or this was good as things were going to get.  Granted, he was glad to be seeing more than colored blurs and bright lights, but the glasses were going to take getting used to.  A lot was going to take getting used to.  He still hadn't managed to look at his new eyes in a mirror – he'd been told they were a shade of hazel-green, but as he'd discovered hearing was one thing and seeing was another game entirely.  He'd been hearing things all his life, and in the past eight months, he'd discovered that seeing wasn't all it was cracked up to be.  He threw another shirt in his suitcase, thinking, _Maybe_ when I get contacts I can look myself in the eye again._  But that wouldn't be for another two months.  Pierce was insisting that his eyes needed more time to 'adjust'._

   "Sheldon, our plane leaves in an hour and a half.  We need to get moving."  Sands looked up at the blond standing in his doorway.  For a month or two after she'd first come out, she'd insisted on living with him, dismissing Carl and taking care of him herself.  It'd only taken a day for Sands to miss Carl.  Inge had somehow gotten it into her head that she could care for him just was well as the next guy . . . or _girl in this case.  No one had said anything, but Sands had gotten the impression that there was some kind of rivalry going on between Tess and Inge, and Inge was bound and determined to win his affections back.  He could only shake his head – the idea of sharing a bed with her again wasn't that bad, but the sentiment behind it was a pain in the ass.  The woman was looking for a trophy husband, but it wasn't going to be him.  That, or she was trying advance her career by using him.  Even Tess hadn't sunk that low.  He'd kicked her out the moment he could see well enough to get by on his own._

   She'd stayed though, stopping by once every few days with groceries or whatever, offering to drive him around, volunteering to make meals for him.  When she'd discovered that he'd called Carl to come help him out with that stuff, she'd gone rigid with anger.  The only thing Sands regretted about that was he hadn't been able to clearly see her face.

   Inge, on the other hand, was remembering why nothing more than her pride had been hurt when Sands had broken things off.  He was a grade A bastard.

   "I don't know if I ever thanked you for sticking around."  Her ears picked up when Sands said that.  It wasn't an apology, but it was the closest he would ever get to giving one.

   "That's al– "

   "You're a lot easier to tick-off than Carl."  Sands smirked at the look on her face, dismay quickly replaced by disgust.  He glanced around the room, realizing he was missing something.  His guns.  Brushing past Inge, he left his room and went into the one that had been Tessa's.  If a memory could twinge in the same manner that a muscle could when it was pulled, he'd have the mother of all headaches by now.  Despite doing his best, he'd been unable to put the woman out of his mind.  The way she cleaned when she was nervous or had something on her mind, her incessant quotes, her refusal to fight back against him – verbally or physically – when he provoked her, the quiet but resigned hurt in her voice that day in the hospital.  He didn't want to remember that.

   **_Revenge is always a valid excuse for hunting her down._**

_   I don't want to kill her._

**_   Ok, then you need__ to kill her.  If you've formed an opinion about it, then she's too close.  She's a liability unless you're willing to claim responsibility for her._**

   That was total bologna.  Sands went to the closet and moved the stack of pillows there.  He'd never removed the other two guns that Tess had hidden there.  Then he went to the dresser and got the spare ammunition.  But that wasn't all he found.  There was also a box there.  A box addressed to him.  _Now what?_

   Inge was nagging from the other room, complaining that they were going to miss their flight.  Sands rolled his eyes – something he could do without pain these days – and shut the door to the room, locking it to keep his nosy guest out.  For some reason, as he sat on the bed and stared at the box, he couldn't help but remember the scene in Peter Pan where Pan opened a present he'd thought had been from Wendy, only to have it explode in his face.  He got the feeling that opening this box would be tantamount to having the same thing happen to him.  But what the hell . . . he'd already considered opening the box.  Might as well see things through.

   The top flaps of the box were simply folded over to keep things closed.  Sands easily opened it, removing a piece of newspaper that had been folded and stuffed inside to keep the contents a secret.  The first thing that met his eyes was a card.  With misgiving, he opened it.  It only contained one word – congratulations.  The handwriting was the same as that on the box; Sands could only assume that it was Tessa's.  He studied the writing for a moment, noting how the letters lacked ornamentation, that the words resembled print more than cursive.  It was very distinctive – bold yet unassuming.  Sands looked up as the door rattled.

   "Sheldon!  Are you listening to me?!"

   "Don't get your panties in a bunch," he muttered under his breath, setting aside the card to see what else _la niña_ had seen fit to leave him.  He reached into the box and pulled out a book, another box, and a drawstring bag.  The book was a dictionary of quotations, the bag held a pair of sunglasses, and the box a small marionette.  "Damn you."  That settled it.  The woman simply knew him too well to go unattended.  He was going to have to decide what to do about her.

**Outside of ****Culíacan****, ****Mexico******

   "I don't care if the trail has gone cold, señor Keel.  I hired you to find my cousin, and that is what you will do.  I don't care if it takes until next year, that is _all_ you will be doing until you track her down.  If I even hear a rumor that you've taken another job before this one is finished, I'll make sure that you regret it."  Carlos Velasquez hung up his phone, handing it to the flunkie who'd been at his side, then waving the man away.  He went into the gardens alone, needing the time to think.

   In the months since the Día los Muertos massacre, his hold on the cartel had solidified to the point where he could afford to wander his uncle's estate without bodyguards trailing behind.  He looked forward to the time when he could move operations back to Zacatecas without having to worry that he was leaving a fomenting rebellion behind him.  If only he could get a hold of Terésa.  Through her, he could get the funds he needed to manage the territory left to him by the death of Barillo – his mother's brother – and Ajedrez.  Then he could think about expanding that territory all the way down to Mexico City as had been planned for several years now.  But he needed Terésa first.  

   Needed to have her back under the influence of the cartel mentality.

   Needed her to show that the Barillos had not been weakened by infighting.

   And he needed her soon.

*****************************************************************

**Author's Note: well, there we go.  The end of that story.  I've gone ahead and posted the prologue to the sequel, so you can go read that.  The actual first chapter should be up by next Thursday at the latest.  I know, that's a long way away, but I'm having to rewrite some stuff I'd already written because it was OOC.  That's what you get for writing things months in advance.**

**Wanted to include my inspiration for this fic.  The first time I saw OUATIM, I went with my friend Sarah, and on the drive home, she had some radio station playing, but the lyrics to one of the songs really inspired me.  They were _There's more to this life than living and dying/more than just trying to make it through the day/More to this life/More than these eyes along can see/and there's more that life alone can be._  And that got me thinking.  It really would have been a good title for the sequel, because then people discover what there is to life that is more than what can be seen, but whatever.**

**Quotes:** **Ursula Le Guin, Emily Dickinsen, and**** Ursula Le Guin**

**Author's Thanks:** thanks go to everyone who ever reviewed, even if it was just once.  The encouragement I got from the quotes that were sent in, or the one line reviews, or the humongous reviews, was what kept me going.  The urges, the threats, the nagging . . . thanks to you all.  Now for the reviews for the last chapter:

**Scarlett** (Scarlett! *smack*  Sorry mate, couldn't resist.  I'm glad to hear that you'll be reading, although I wouldn't mind reading another chapter of _your fic.  ^_^); **The Flaming Chia Pet (I'm glad you're saving your tomatoes.  I get the feeling you'll like the next fic.  Now that I've successfully written one without any romance . . . well . . . not sure how much **__romance I'll be writing, per se, but there will be some relationship stuff going on.  : P); **sidhe_ranma** (yes, but ff.net wasn't cooperating with me, and the chapter was displaying in two different fonts and font sizes, so I had to delete the chapter and repost.  It was annoying, to say the least.  Thanks for the complements.); **Digital Diamond** (I think I can safely say that your reviews have 'flair.'  ^_^  Yes, a sequel that I will post as soon as I finish this.  And Jessica – well, she noses into everyone's business, not just Tessa's.  I like her just because she's so different than everyone else I've written so far.  But she won't make too many appearances.  And the first on your favorite's list?  I'm very honored.); **Isola (Don't worry!  I posted it.  It's up, or it had better be.); ****Nimwen (oh, my ideas roll so fast that they get mixed up and then I have to untangle them.  That's what my problem is.  ^_^); ****Satisdee (yes, hmm, enormous energy.  Yes, Chia terrified me.  : P  I hope this chapter lives up to expectations.); **CaptainJackSparrowsGirl** (yes, more, a sequel.  I hope everyone has caught on to that by now.  ^_^); ****Pixy (new computers are fun. : D  As for waiting a month to post the new story . . . I honestly think I'd be killed in effigy by then.  You reviewers can be brutal if your obsessions don't get fed.); and **Blank** (yes, I caught that little mistake as well, and I'll fix it once I post the final copy of this story.  That'll be in a week or so – there's a lot of story to read through and fix.)**_

And new reviewers à **Shinneri-chan (you wouldn't be the first to be obsessed, and hopefully you won't be the last.); **Kontara** (I really don't try to make people cry, but it's always a plus.  ^_^  As for your lack of viewing OUATIM – I like to think my Sands is an accurate interpretation of Sands, but it all depends on the reader, I guess.); **Crystal Symphony** (thanks for the quotes, and thanks for the complements.  I'm always amazed the people sit down and read something this long – it can be daunting.); and ****Lorelei Lee (I'm not a quick, fluffy, romance type of girl – which isn't to say that I won't be moving into some smut-like territory, but it'll be just as painful and confusing and angsty and full of substance as the rest of the story.  I've written some preliminary scenes and run them by people, and they seem to like the character building/informational stuff I've thrown in with the sex.  We'll see what actually makes it here though.  ^_^  I'm so glad you found Sands to be in character, and Jess . . . well, apparently she's one of those people you either love or hate.  Glad I got her character written down that well.)**

And last, but never least, more thanks and gratitude than I can ever give to **Ashley**, who stepped forward to be my beta.  And who, despite ice storms, evil computers, bad job hours, school, and family, has been sending me beta copies full of caught typos and grammar mistakes.  Girl, you are a lifesaver, and I look forward to working with you on 'Fallen.'

**To those of you who have me on your favorite's list or author alert but who have never taken the time to drop me a note (and I know who you are.  : P), please, let me know what you liked, hated, didn't understand, or whatever.  I take all comments into consideration while writing and try to clear up any questions.  I'm writing this for people to read, but I need to know what they want to read.  You won't hurt my feelings, unless you send poorly thought out flames, in which case I'll feel bad because I didn't irritate you enough to actually upset you.  ^_^**

**I'll be reposting this entire story in a week or so, and I probably won't keep the replies to my reviews, so if you want them, you'd better copy them or print them out.**

**That is all from me for this chapter.  Thanks for the experience.**

**Sara**


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